Shore Leave
by Machinist's Guardian Archangel
Summary: After the Omega-4 Relay and a week of running from the Illusive Man, the Normandy crew needs rest. Docking on Illium becomes the best choice for well-earned shore leave for Shepard and his psychotic band of misfits. So let the alcohol, bad decisions, touching romances, and destruction of public property begin. Pic is a crop of Guardian Angel by RiptideX1090 from DeviantArt.
1. Lessons and Nightmares

The elevator's door opens to the loft with the usual soft hiss and beep. Tali steps out first, gently pulling me along by our interwoven fingers. I follow her through that door and the next until we get close to my desk. "Hang on a second," I say with a light tug on her hand. "Let me double check our ETA."

She nods and lets go of my hand. "Ok. I'll get us something to drink. What do you want?"

The computer glows to life when I run my fingers across the keyboard. The galaxy map appears, with the Normandy a red dot towards the left. "Would you mind seeing if we have any cherry Pepsi left?"

She steps over to the bedside table directly in front of the computer. "Umm..." she grumbles while bending over and digging through drink bottles. On a slightly selfish impulse, I let my gaze wander over her way. Hey, it's a nice view, and it's not like I've made it a habit. Just a... an occasional splurge.

She stands again with two bottles in hand. My eyes dart back to the monitor before she can realize where they were. "You have three bottles left after this. And there's still six bottles of wine. You didn't have to buy all those for me."

I shrug innocently. "A guy can't pamper his girlfriend a little?"

She just shakes her head when the Normandy's course statistics appear on my console. ETA to Illium: six hours. "Perfect. We'll get shore leave after breakfast tomorrow."

Tali sets our bottles and glasses on the table. "Finally. It will be nice to have some time off."

"I know. I'm sorry for working you guys so hard this week." I close the interface and follow her down to the drinks.

She's waiting by the table when I get there. Her hands immediately grab mine and hold them just above her waist. "You've got nothing to apologize for," she says softly, rubbing my hands like she always loves to do. "Everyone knows we needed to do this."

We've been back from the Omega-4 a week now. In that time, I've had the crew working almost non-stop. The Illusive Man wants my head over the destroyed Collector base, but we're making him work for it. EDI's masking our location and disabling the bugs that were installed. Tali, Legion, Mordin, and Garrus have all been doing extra scans and smashing them to be sure. Anyone else who can swing a hammer has been trying to rebuild the hull and cargo bay. Rupert and I had the most interesting job: removing the Cerberus insignias from the ship. He jury-rigged some kind of acid that made short work of the ones on metal, so that's been our week. All of the crew except me cut the logos off the uniforms. I just burned all of mine. Wasn't a bad idea, except I only had two ratty t-shirts and a pair of cargo pants after the viking funeral. Thank goodness for fuel-depot-orbiting convenience stores.

I grip her hands a little tighter and kiss the top of her mask. "I still feel bad for making you guys work after all that."

"Well, my job is easier than Rupert's. At least I don't have to clean Grunt's toilet," she jokes with a laugh.

We sit down alongside the table and pour our drinks. The last bit of thievery I used the Cerberus funding for was a combination bedside table/refrigerator, keeping our sodas and wine chilled. Tali uses a little white straw to sip her wine while I less-than-subtly knock back the cola. That stuff was a bitch to find: only one store on the Citadel still makes it with real sugar. I bought fifty bottles three months ago and have been slowly working through them.

"So how's the engine holding up?" I ask, taking a swig of cola.

Tali rotates and stretches her legs across the couch while laying against my other shoulder. "Surprisingly well," she explains after another wine sip. "The stress of the Reaper IFF and the crash didn't cause as much damage as I thought. Most of the circuit boards and fuses were overloaded, so we've had to replace those, but nothing too severe. There's still a few parts we'll need to get while we're on Illium, though. We should have it back to a hundred percent in... three days."

I give a small whistle. "That's a pleasant surprise. I figured it'd be another month, given the hell we put her through."

"It might take that long if Gabby and Ken don't quit bickering."

"Good luck stopping them. Kasumi's right: they'd be a cute couple if they ever realized it."

Tali looks up at me like there's an eyebrow raised under the mask. "Did you just call them a cute couple?" she asks, barely containing her humor.

I chuckle a little. "I think you're rubbing off on me, Tali. But keep in mind you're the only person I'll ever call cute."

"Good, sweet talker," she giggles. She leans her head in my shoulder with a content sigh.

"So what do you want to do with the rest of our evening?" I ask, wrapping my left arm around her stomach.

"Mmm..." Her head rocks this way and that as she ponders. "How about another lesson?"

Every night since we got together, we've been teaching each other about our respective cultures. There's actually more similarities than differences in most aspects, but the little things show how much our race influenced our personalities. I'm starting understand their ancestor reverence, and she's warming up to the idea of God and the Bible. The conversations end up coming around to ourselves more often than not, but that's always welcome. I never realized how little I knew about her: I still have no idea what her favorite song is. Hmm... Speaking of which...

"How does music sound? Pun unintended, by the way."

"That would be nice." She sets her 3/4ths empty cup on the table. "Will you go first, please?"

"Alright. Fair warning, though: I'm not a good representative for humanity's taste in music. I have my dad's ear."

"What does that mean?"

"The ear or my taste in music?"

"Both. Cerberus didn't take your father's ear and attach it to you, did they?"

The genuine concern in her voice makes me laugh a little. "I hope not. No, it's an old human joke. Having someone's ear means that you like the same kind of music they do. And taste in music just means preference. Anyway, most of the songs I like are really old. Like before 2020, before we could reach Mars old. All human music, but it hasn't been popular in a very long time."

She shrugs a little. "I don't mind. As long as I get to talk to you."

"I think I can live with that," I chuckle, tightening the hug around her stomach. "Alright, where to start... I guess I alternate a little between two genres. There's rock and classical, though I listen to a little of everything from back then. Let's just start with rock. It's usually a four or five piece band: one guy on drums, a singer, one or two acoustic-slash-electric guitarists, and a bass guitarist. Most of the songs are three to five minutes, divided into a handful of sections. There's the intro, the first thirty seconds or so, which is just the instruments playing and building up. Then the verse, where the singer joins in. The chorus is next, which is basically the main theme of the song where the singer and the instruments work together. Then there's another, slightly different verse, and the chorus again. The second verse has different words than the first, but the instrumental is about the same. The second chorus is about opposite: the words are usually pretty much identical, but the instrumental part has some kind of building to it, kind of like a story's plot building towards the climax. Then there's the bridge. It's a section very different from the chorus and the verse, usually big and dramatic. There's sometimes a solo, a guitar or the drums take center stage for a bit. The chorus plays one last time, the song winds down, and it's over. Do you want me to find an example?"

She nods. "Please."

I scroll through my songs and finally settle on _Ticket to Heaven_. As it plays over the speakers, Tali closes her eyes, slowly bouncing her head to the beat. This song's one of my favorites. The guitar part in it is awesome, and the slightly poetic lyrics are nice. I keep the urge to sing content by tapping my foot with the drums. After four minutes, the song comes to an end and Tali looks back to me.

"I could feel those different sections you were talking about," she says. "They're fairly distinct."

I shrug a little. "Usually. Each song and band has their own little things they change from the tried-and-true formula."

"Like more than one person singing the chorus?"

"Yep. 3 Doors Down did that with a lot of their songs, which is a bit of a shame with Brad's voice. But there's a million things they change from song to song and band to band."

"Like what?" she asks curiously.

"Sometimes they add different instruments. Pianos and violins are fairly common, though they're predominantly classical instruments."

"Ah. Does it change the songs much?"

"Usually. Something either really sad or really romantic tends to use completely different instrumentation. Love songs either use a lot or almost nothing. Like you remember that song I played for you and Garrus on the SSV, _Here By Me?_ All they use for that is an acoustic guitar like mine, a bass, and just a bit of drums. Then there's _Here Without You_ that has the entire band playing full blast with a small army of violins helping. Just a different way of doing things."

She nods. "That's interesting. I imagine it makes for a lot of possibilities."

"More than I care to count. Most songs have their own theme. Missing someone, loving someone, hating something, fighting for something. If you can think it, there's a song for it. And the extranet has all of them at our fingertips."

"The same is true for Quarian music, though most of our songs revolve around Rannoch and being trapped in our suits. Our music tends to be more focused on the singer, with much less instruments behind it. That may be why I like the percussion of human songs so much."

"A fondness for something new?"

"I suppose."

I shrug. "Who knows. There's one guy I need to mention while I'm thinking about it: Matt Nathanson."

"Who's that?"

I raise a hand up, grasping at the words that elude me. "He's a weird, old singer. The guy was good, but his music never quite fit into a genre for me. It's kinda rock, but at the same time, not really. I'll have to show you. Up for another demonstration?"

"Sure," she says and leans more into my shoulder. "I like listening to this."

"I'm enjoying the company as much as the music."

"Me too."

I find the semi-weird hit _Come On Get Higher_ on my tool and get the speakers to listen up. The drums and guitar follow soon after. It's still a good song, but I'm never quite sure how to feel about it. It almost sounds like it's about sex and the "higher" part refers to a position. The same could be said for almost all of his songs. Tali certainly seems to enjoy it, though. Her fingertips rasp the table top in perfect sync with the song, and by the second chorus, I can see the very edges of her lips mouthing with Matt's. Not laughing at that requires a lot of will power.

"Hmm..." she mutters when the song ends. "I kind of see why you say it's strange."

"His songs are all over the place. That's one of his really good ones."

"It is. What was the other genre you mentioned? Classical?"

"Yeah. There's not really a set structure to it. Songs range from a minute and a half to half an hour. There's no chorus or verses. But there's usually a handful of common characteristics. Almost all of them have a building through the song, like the rock songs do, and there's a theme that repeats itself, played over and over with slight variations. The instrumentation is all over the place: some bands play with two or three instruments, some do it with two or three dozen. Singers get involved sometimes, though most of the time they're just vocalizing nonsense for effect. But for every rule I set, there's a thousand songs that shatter it. You just have to go through and get a feel for it. Want another example?"

"If you don't mind."

"Alright. I'll do three of them, just to show how different they can be."

The first one up is _False King_, just to prove how short they can be. It's always been a good one, and for some reason, I always associate it with Tali. It fits her: starts slow and quiet, a calm beauty that hides its strength, but reveals it in the end when it's called for. Although, Tali's beauty is a little more hidden. She spends the song bobbing her head again, keeping a perfect beat with the violins. But when _Fantasia on the Dargason comes_ up, it becomes quite a sight. Her head sways side to side with the melody as she figures it out. When she gets it, she starts laughing and rocking like a little kid listening to kindergarten rhymes. I finally give in and start swaying right along with her. This was a fun song to play in high school, even if it did take me three months to get it out of my head. Still, being a goofy four year old again is nice, especially with my favorite little Quarian.

After we calm back down, I decide on _A Song for Lindsay _for the last one, just to show how romantic classical can be. She's quiet for the first few seconds, more curious than anything else. But as the song builds, she starts leaning more and more against my chest. She hums along with the melody, staying in quiet sync with this... hushed beauty that I can't quite describe. I look in her mask and see the very edge of a smile on her face. Her eyes close as she sighs and wraps me in a hug.

"I like this one," she whispers.

I decide to speak in the same volume, sliding a hug around her small frame. "So do I. It was written by a horn player. His wife was a flute. The song was supposed to be them playing back and forth to each other."

"A cross-section romance? Is that as nice as a cross-species one?" she teases softly.

"Depends on which particular romance. I can't think of one that could beat ours."

"Neither can I."

When the song's over, I stretch my ribs a bit, though Tali refuses to let go. "Not wanting to move over there?" I ask with a chuckle.

She tightens the hug. "No. I'm comfortable."

"Figured as much." I lay my arm more around the small of her back. "You realize it's your turn now."

"Hmm... Do we have to sit here?"

"Depends on what your other plan is."

She lifts her head up at me. "I doubt you'd complain about more cuddling on the bed."

I smile at her. "Nope, not at all. But only as long as it's you I'm cuddling with."

"Well, I don't think Miranda's the type. That, and you'd probably kill her after ten minutes."

"More than likely. Want a hand up?"

"Please."

She slowly releases the hug and I help her over to the bed. I try to lower her down first, but she has a different idea. She yanks me onto the mattress, slamming me down on my back. Her legs straddle mine, and my hips become pinned under hers. A quiet laugh escapes from her mouth when her mask presses against my forehead.

"This isn't exactly what I had in mind," I tease, sliding a hug around her chest.

"It doesn't mean you aren't enjoying yourself," she whispers with a coy smile outlined in the purple haze.

I shrug a little. "No. But since we both know you haven't taken your medicine, let's keep the thoughts PG, Miss vas Normandy."

"I know," she sighs. "I have wait another day or two for my immune system to recover. I just wanted to see your reaction."

"Let me put it this way: the only thing keeping me from ripping your mask off and kissing you is the fear of getting you sick."

I see her smile grow just a bit. "Good answer."

"Thought you'd like it. Now would you mind letting me up so we can actually cuddle?"

"Fine..."

She rotates onto her side, letting me slide out from under her and back towards the headboard. I lay my back against it, and she joins me a moment later. Her shoulder lays into my chest while the side of her head finds my cheek. I hug her stomach and help her into my lap. "Your turn," I mutter in her ear.

She works her arms up and over, so she can gently grip my hands. "Ok... I guess Quarian music is a lot like your classical music. There's lots of instrument variation from song to song, and they tend to be very long. But there's a lot more attention on the singer than in your music, and the words are different. In my music, every word is understandable, but none of them repeat. The artists write a poem without thinking of the music, and then they create the instruments around it. There's not a set structure like your music, no verses or chorus. But there is a building to the climax. And there is a lot of variety between songs, but not really genres to organize any of them into. Do you want an example?"

"If you wouldn't mind."

She raises her hands and brings up her omni-tool. A blister of words run across the small screen until stopping on one. It lights up a brighter orange, then the song creeps out of the speakers. There's something that sounds a lot like a violin, but almost a cello at the same time. The notes and chords are too in sync to be different instruments. It's a lot like Garrus' voice: there's a high and low tone that play in harmony. It's a nice sound. The strange little instrument continues for another minute or so in a strange solo before some kind of guitar joins the mix. Again, it's a combination. Every few strums and picks, a hollow beat echoes in it. It sounds like a drum, but without the hard impact. That one I really like.

The two instruments sing back and forth to each other for a while, almost like the horn and flute from _A Song for Lindsay._ But finally, a female voice works her way in. "Less than a day's time separates us, but for me, it's been longer than life itself." The vocalist is absolutely phenomenal. Like take Amy Lee from Evanescence on and it actually be a close competition. She's got great range, and any note she holds is spot on with amazing tone. Seriously one of the best singers I've heard in a long time. "I know that your reasons are for the best, and that you are needed away. Yet my heart does not care of the reasons. All it knows is that what it cannot beat without is no longer by my side. I would give anything to have you in my arms again, to hear your heartbeat in my chest, and your skin against mine. Until you return, all I will do is dream of our past and our future together."

The song keeps going like that for another five minutes, keeping me surprisingly enchanted in its beauty. Singers tend to have this... arrogance to them. "Look at me: I can sing better than you. Watch me, watch me!" You can almost hear it in their voices. Most trumpets have the same issue. But the Quarian doesn't have that at all. The words are selfish, but she's pleading. There's no pride or spoiled bratty-ness in her voice. Just a longing love... It's rare. And it's beautiful.

When the final chord dies, Tali yawns and shakes her head. I feel my own drowsiness working its way into my brain. She stretches her arms above her head, leaning on me more. "Is that enough for tonight?"

I rub my hand across her stomach, loving the feeling of her muscles moving beneath the suit. "Tired already?" I chuckle and nuzzle the side of her mask. "Alright, time for bed. Let me just brush my teeth first."

"Ok..." she grumbles.

She scoots to the side, letting me up and off the bed. My feet slowly cooperate as I stumble over to the bathroom. Guess the drowsiness is a little thicker than I expected. I close the door behind me to shield Tali from the unattractive sight of me using the toilet and blue toothpaste foam oozing from my mouth.

After that's accomplished, I open the door back up and use the mirror. I examine my face in the glass as I wash that and my hands. "What do you think about my goatee?" I ask Tali through the now-open door.

"What about it?" she semi-shouts back.

"Think I should get rid of it?"

"Why are you asking me?"

The curiosity in her voice makes me chuckle. "You are my girlfriend, meaning you have the final vote in everything I or we do. When and where we eat, when and where we sleep, and how much hair I keep."

"So you're my slave? I'll have to remember that," she giggles seductively.

"PG thoughts, Miss vas Normandy. I don't need another lecture from Mordin. So what's the verdict?"

"Hmm... I think you would look different without it. But you wouldn't look bad."

"Alright, how's this sound? I shave it off tomorrow, just to test how it is. If you don't like it or it bothers me too much, I'll let it grow back."

"I wouldn't mind."

"Got it. Morning objective: vanquish the black creature on my lip."

When I get to the bottom of the stairs, Tali's covered only her feet with the sheets. She strikes a pin-up pose, laying on her side with her hand running down her amazing curves. "See something you like?" she teases.

"'Like' doesn't even begin to describe it." I toss my t-shirt into the small hamper by the closet, take two big steps, and jump over the bottom of the bed, landing less than an inch behind her.

She bursts into laughter as I hug her tight. "What happened to PG?"

"You put the idea in my head."

I let her fidget her way over so that she's facing me. I roll back and we find our usual positions. Her shoulder lays into mine while her arms close around my torso. She lays her head into my cheek while I hug her as tight as I can. Her comfortable sigh vibrates in my chest, our muscles relaxing into each other.

"Enjoying your stay at the Commander Resort?" I ask with a smile.

"Very much," she half-yawns. "Before I forget, would you mind sending me a few of your songs tomorrow so I could listen to them?"

I kiss the top edge of her visor. "Not a problem. I'll make a quick playlist of a hundred or so and send them to you after breakfast. Could you do the same for me?"

She nods just a hair. "Yes. I have to warn you, though: the ones I like all sound like the one I played you."

"Doesn't bother me. It'll still be nice to hear. Sleep tight, Tali."

"Good night, Aaron."

It doesn't take her long to fall asleep, only a minute or two. It's always nice to watch that subtle transformation, the individual things that change as she gives in to the drowsiness. The way her hands go from rubbing my shoulder to hanging limply. How the little glows of her eyes blink out to the deep purple of her visor... It's become my personal addiction to watch. Falling asleep before her just doesn't seem right anymore.

It occurs to me that I forgot to tell Tali about another human tendency with music. Using the softer songs to fall asleep. _Here Without You, Right Here Waiting, I Don't Want To Miss A Thing_... If there was ever a perfect song for this moment, that's it.

I open my omni-tool, careful not to disturb her, turn the music speakers to the lowest volume, and tell them to start playing. The violins come in, slowly building like the smile on my face. Oh, I love this song... Few songs quite like it...

"I could stay awake just to hear you breathing... Watch you smile while you are sleeping, while you're far away dreaming. I could spend my life in this sweet surrender. I could stay lost in this moment forever... Every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure. I don't want to close my eyes. I don't want to fall asleep, cause I'd miss you baby. And I don't want to miss a thing. Cause even when I dream of you, the sweetest dream would never do, cause I'd miss you babe. And I don't want to miss a thing..."

I'm not sure when I fall asleep exactly, but it's one of the most peaceful times in my life... Every night with her has been like this...

* * *

Something hard hits me in the ribs, launching my eyes open. I'm halfway to my feet and Predator before I realize it was only Tali's elbow. She's twitching in her sleep, slightly punching and muttering. Her dreams must be active tonight. It's about the... fourth time she's done that. She's never hit me quite that hard, but a gentle kick to the shins is fairly common. She'll do it for ten minutes before settling back down. Wonder if I do that in my sleep?

With the toilet now beckoning, I stumble out of bed and back into the bathroom. The Pepsi exits my system quickly before I wash my hands in the sink. My limbs don't particularly want to work for me in their semi-inebriated state, but I don't hurt myself on any of the fixtures. There's no point in using the mirror this late, so I work my way back into the bedroom. Hopefully, the rest of the night will go off without a hitch.

Tali's twitches have gotten worse on the bed, and her mutters are almost loud enough for me to understand now. Hmm... A twinge of worry starts to eat at me. She does this all the time, but it's never been this bad. I'll watch her for a few minutes, make sure she's alright. I walk over and take a seat on the bottom corner of the bed. The words are almost audible now, but still a giant mess of unconscious flailing. I stay out of reach of her legs and wait for any kind of change.

My right shoulder starts to ache a bit. I rotate it back and forth, working a kink out of the joint. A Collector got me Horizon with a good burst. Didn't get through the armor, but melted the pad into skin and cartilage. Chakwas patched me up pretty good, but it'd take some cybernetics to fix completely. I'm fine with it aching during in rain if it means no more tech in me. Damn Widow doesn't do it a whole lot of favors, though.

A kick lands in my thigh, bringing my thoughts right back to the present. Tali's not so much twitching now as full-out flailing. Her arms are punching at air, striking invisible enemies before going in another direction. "No, no, no..." she mutters. "Not. Too-too... too hot. Hot..."

I lay my hand on the small of her back. "Tali," I say with a gentle shove.

She swings a wild elbow at me, then goes back to the front targets. "Too hot. Can't breathe. A-Aaron, please." Her arms and legs are going full speed now, desperately trying to take out something.

"Tali," I half-shout.

"I-I-I can't breathe! Aaron! Aaron, help me!"

"Tali!"

She finally shoots straight up, gasping for air. A fist almost hits me, but I lean back under it. She wraps her arms around herself a second later while she shakes like mad. "Keelah..." she whispers through tears.

I drag myself across the bed and almost into her lap. My arms grip her in a death hug, pulling her into my chest. "Shh... Shh..." I mutter in her ear. "You're ok, you're ok. It was just a nightmare. You're ok..."

I feel her body shiver against my chest and her teeth chatter. She keeps the hug around herself, but leans her head into my shoulder and the rest of herself into my chest. "Keelah..." she sobs. "I-I-I thought it was real... I thought I was there again..."

"You're here, Tali. There's nothing to worry about."

She sniffles under the mask. "... I thought it was real. I-I thought I was in the vents again. I c-could see y-you trying to get to the panels to let me out... But they stopped you. You were dying on the ground while they kept coming... I could feel my suit starting to melt into my skin..."

And with that, she starts sobbing again with renewed strength. All I can do is hug her tighter and keep shushing in her ear. "Shh... It's alright. It's alright. You got through just fine. Everyone did. It's alright, I'm right here... You're ok..." None of it seems to slow her wailing down at all.

An idea forms in my head. Not much of one, but it's worth a shot. I lean in closer to her ear and hold her tight. "This world asks for so much. Despite what you give it's just never enough..." I sing in a whisper. "And you're left cold, tired, and alone, searching for something that's already gone. You try not to be afraid, bound down by all of these things that they say. And you feel like you're all by yourself, but I'll be right here when there's nothing else. Lay down. Rest here in peace in my arms now, knowing you're safe from the storms and the rain and from all of your pain. And I'll be here when only the silence remains."

Her sobs start to mellow out, slowly going down in volume and intensity. "Your fears, they know that you're scared. Wherever you go, they seem to meet you there. And you face them all on your own. Never the weak; always the strong. And you win most of the time, never once claiming that 'victory's mine.' And you carry this burden alone, but this candle's burned at both ends for so long. Lay down. Rest here in peace in my arms now, knowing you're safe from the storms and the rain and from all of your pain. And I'll be here when only the silence remains."

Now, she's down to quiet snifflings and sobs. She's still shaking badly, but she's finally starting to regain some control. "Lay down. Rest here in peace in my arms now, knowing you're safe from the storms and the rain and from all of your pain. And I'll be here when only the silence remains. Rest here in peace in my arms now, knowing you're safe from the storms and the rain and from all of your pain. And I'll be here when only the silence remains."

When I finish the song, she stays quiet. Her body still shivers occasionally, and I can hear her nose running still, but it sounds like she's through the worst of it. She keeps her head buried in the top of my chest, never looking up at me. "Thank you..." she whispers with a voice still broken by tears.

I lay a small kiss on her. "It's ok, Tali."

She finally slides her arms around my sides. "Thank you... It's all I can say."

"It's all you need to... Would it help you back to sleep if I keep singing?"

"Please," she mutters with a nod.

"Ok. Come here."

I lay back down like usual. She makes her hug a little tighter and leaves her head on my chest, clinging to me like I'm life itself. I hug her around her back and pull her into me. She rotates a little, making herself somewhat comfortable.

I sigh and lean to her ear. "This world asks for so much..."

* * *

Yes, my minions, I am back. This is the first chapter of another long story for me. However, I have a bit of bad news. My girlfriend and five of her friends are dragging me along camping half of next week, so I won't be able to update on Sunday like usual. However, I'll get it up ASAP and get back into my usual schedule right after. Blame the lack of wi-fi in the boonies. Until next time. ~MGA

Songs mentioned:

Ticket to Heaven by 3 Doors Down on Away From the Sun album

Come On Get Higher by Matt Nathanson on Some Mad Hope album

False King by Two Steps From Hell on Invincible album

Fantasia On the Dargason by Gustav Holst

A Song for Lyndsay by Andrew Boysen

I Don't Want To Miss A Thing by Aerosmith on Armageddon - The Album album

The Silence Remains by 3 Doors Down on Time of My Life album


	2. Strange Breakfast

It took another half hour for Tali to fall back to sleep. My singing helped her relax, but the nightmare rattled her down to the bone. Can't say I blame her. Grandpa had to stick me in therapy when I moved in with him just to get me to sleep one night through after the raid, and Akuze was the same story with a different coat of paint. Maybe my Hell prepped me to get her through this one. I'm just glad I managed to get her to sleep again.

I wake up around eight, a little later than usual. It takes a few seconds of blinking and head shaking to kick start my brain again. The automated lights of the cabin have already turned on, designed to simulate a planet-side morning. The window high on the ceiling is barely cracked open and shows the edge of a rising sun. Guess the Normandy's clock and Nos Astra's time zone match up more or less.

My eyes wander down to the weight on my chest. Two pale lights stare back at me, glowing through a familiar purple haze. Tali looks surprisingly awake considering last night. She rotates her head so that her temple leans against my chest while tightening the grip around me. "Hey," she whispers softly.

"Hey." I lay my head back down on the pillow and pull her in closer. She scoots her body up until her chin reaches the edge of my collarbone. "How did you sleep?"

She sighs a little. "Better, because of you."

"It's my job. I know what it's like... to have nightmares realer than life."

"I still can't thank you enough, Aaron." She rubs the side of her mask against my skin in an attempt to show more gratitude than she can put into words. "I'm so sorry for last night."

"Don't be, alright? It happens. And besides, you know there's not a thing I wouldn't do for you."

"I know... But I hate being a burden."

"You're not, Tali. I promise." I hug her a little tighter, trying to make her feel better.

She lifts her head up off of my neck. The little mic on the front of her mask presses into my cheek, the sound of a kiss greeting my ear. "Thank you."

"It's no problem. Hey, would you mind if... if we tried not to think about last night, just for today? I want you enjoying our little bit of shore leave, not worrying about this."

"I'll try. As long as I get to spend the day with you."

"That can be arranged."

She rubs her hand across the edge of my chest, nuzzling closer. "Can we lay here a little while longer?"

"No problem. You look too comfortable to move anyway."

"Why would I leave a warm pillow that likes to cuddle?" she teases softly. Alright: she's starting to get her sense of humor back. Good sign.

"Eh. Fair enough. No point in getting up right now. It's not like there's a race of mysterious aliens abducting human colonies anymore."

I hear a giggle escape her throat as she settles into a comfortable spot on my neck. "I suppose there isn't."

"So, any ideas of what you want to do for our first day of shore leave?"

"Hmm..." Her fingers rasp my skin, her brain busy contemplating. "We could browse some of the stores, go 'window shopping,' I think it's called."

I nod just a bit. "That sounds good. See if I can't buy you something."

"You don't need to get me anything, Aaron. I have my own credits."

I grip her hand and rub the top of it, aching just a bit to feel the skin beneath. "As your boyfriend, my sole purpose in life is to spoil you rotten. And it's not like I don't have some 'borrowed' Cerberus funds to burn through."

"I don't know..." she mutters with malleable doubt in her voice.

"I'll make you a deal. I will get you one thing today, the one trinket that catches your eye more than anything else. I won't force or try to convince you to let me buy you anything else. And any meals are on me. But at least one gift. Think you can live with that?"

She uses her thumb to pop her knuckles for a few seconds, letting her mind debate. "... Ok. But only one gift. And it had better not be a Mako; Garrus would have a heart attack."

"Aw, why not? I could rent one, take everyone for a ride. Grunt and Jack would have the time of their lives. And it's not like I'm _that_ bad of a driver."

"Aaron, there is no record of anyone EVER making a land vehicle do five barrel rolls off of a cliff, land on a group of mercenaries, and then crash through the front door of a hardened bunker. We've checked. Repeatedly."

I can't resist laughing at that memory. Still have no idea where the Hell that was. But Tali was screaming bloody murder in the back seat with Wrex puking all over the interior; that much is perfectly clear. Liara complained about the smell of regurgitated pyjack for a week. "Alright, I promise. And just so you know, I'm glad to have my smart ass girlfriend back."

"I'm glad my bosh'tet boyfriend brought her back."

"Shepard." EDI's fishbowl head appears where my armor interface once was. "I have messages for you and Miss Zorah."

Of course. I swear, there are days people can't tie their shoes without me. "Alright, let's hear it," I groan with Tali sighing on my chest.

"For Shepard: both Operative Lawson and Yeoman Chambers are requesting your input on leave scheduling for the other crew members and how long we'll be docked on Illium. Miss Zorah, Engineer Daniels is requesting your help down in the engine core. She left early this morning to retrieve the necessary replacement parts we needed. She requests, quote, 'another set of hands for instillation. And if someone doesn't shut Kenneth up, I will make Grunt shove the sexist bastard's head up Zaeed's ass.' Unquote."

"You'd better help them out," I tell Tali before directing back to EDI. "We'll be there soon. Breakfast first, then work. Try to defuse any cat fights until then."

"Understood." The blue orb disappears, the slightly sexual depiction of my armor taking its place.

Tali's head rocks back onto me with another annoyed grumble. "I guess we won't be able to go shopping this morning."

"Apparently not," I mutter. "We could still grab breakfast together, if you want to."

"Please." She pauses for just a second, like a little light bulb in her head clicked on. "Gabby and Ken would be fine running the diagnostics and calibrations without me. I can probably finish most of the hardware installations by early afternoon, then leave them to do the software. We could meet for lunch, then go shopping."

"That's fine with me. You know, Garrus could probably stand for some shore leave too. We could hang out until you get done, and then everybody meet up for lunch. Between the two of us, we might finally get Garrus into something that doesn't have bullet holes in it. Or something casual that doesn't look like purple and green vomit."

"We could. Can we go down for breakfast now? My stomach's growling."

"After you, my lady."

She slowly climbs off the bed, pulling me up with her. I grab a cheap gray hoodie on my way out and stuff it on in the elevator. Tali takes care of the level selection while laughing just a bit at me.

When we reach the crew deck, I grab her hand like last night: gently intertwining our fingers, but this time leading her out. She doesn't seem to mind as we round the corner for food.

"There's the two lovebirds!" Gardner calls out from his station, noticing us immediately. "The usual?"

"Sounds good to me," I answer.

Tali hesitates for just a second before she replies. "Actually, could make another of those pastries like yesterday? The little squares with holes in them and little berries inside?"

He nods immediately. "One Commander special and a plate of Quarian berry waffles, coming up. Give me five minutes."

My butt is in the chair less than a second before Miranda comes out of her office. Her peripheral vision catches me, rotating herself my way without breaking stride. "Shepard. I need your help with the schedules." She never takes her eyes off the datapad during any of this.

"Miranda, what's my rule about paperwork?" I ask before she can slam me with more questions.

She stops for a second and raises an eyebrow. "Which one? There's 'If someone besides me can fill it out, make them do it,' 'Any stupid questions will be answered with sarcasm,' my personal favorite of, 'If it takes more than ten minutes to fill out, I'll use it for target practice...'"

"And?"

"... 'And none before breakfast.' Fine; it can wait."

I nod. "Thank you. You're one of two people who already need my input this morning, and I'm sure there'll be six more before Rupert even finishes my corned beef hash, so just wait. I'll eat, quick shower, and I'll help you first."

"I'll hold you to that," she says with slight surrender. "I'll be discussing the schedule with Chambers when you're ready." And just like that, she pulls a 180 and beelines for the elevator.

Tali waits for her to disappear before whispering into my ear, "Keelah, she can be a bitch."

"She's not used to being told 'no' or being wrong about anything. I'm trying to knock her down a peg or two, just so she's more approachable. Made some progress. You should've seen her before you got aboard."

The main battery door opens with Garrus stumbling out groggily. He rubs his eye and yawns, revealing the sharp teeth always hide in his mouth. I wonder if Turians are biters when they... let's call it "bonding." They've got the fangs for it. I know a few girls who would probably enjoy having Garrus nibble on their necks. Probably leave a Hell of a scar, though... Well, to be fair, I've still got a few teeth marks from Tali that I have to hide under t-shirts.

The sniper/head calibrator ignores the rest of us, digging into the fridge for the Turian equivalent of coffee. "Need your morning grog, Vakarian?" I chuckle.

He raises the little finger of his left hand, showing discontent at my joke. "I didn't go to sleep until two last night. EDI and Legion decided to test my calibrating skills by wrecking the main gun's sights."

"The intention was to sharpen your skills, not to antagonize," EDI chimes in from somewhere.

"This is correct, Officer Vakarian. We wished to gauge your reaction times and reduce them for the safety of Normandy crew," Legion explains.

It takes me a second to realize Legion's talking over the speakers of the Normandy instead of being in the room with us. Joy: the psychotic AIs are friends now. No way I want to be around on Halloween if they decide to join in. "You two be careful with your little experiments and tests. I've already got one mad scientist to worry about," I say, shaking my head.

"We will behave, Shepard-Commander," the computers reply in sync.

Garrus finally takes his seat across from Tali and me, coffee in hand. "The sad part is I'm not even surprised anymore."

"Commander Aaron Shepard's Normandy: the intergalactic safari of impossible made reality," Tali laughs.

I lay my arm over her shoulder while the Turian sips from his mug. "So what made you two end your morning session of blowing off steam?" he jokes with a smirk.

"I'm going to ignore that comment," I prod back. "Breakfast."

"Gabby and Ken need my help in engineering," Tali explains. "We're finishing up repairs on the engine, so Aaron asked if we could eat before I got to work."

Garrus just nods. "Sounds like fun. I don't have much in the way of plans."

"So how about you and I go hang out?" I ask. "Browse the stores, find some decent clothes, piss the cops off?"

"The usual Tuesday?" he laughs. "I could go for that. Need some new armor, anyway."

"Replacement's on me. After Tali finishes up, we can grab some lunch together. Then we can raise some real Hell."

"Why am I worried about this?" she chuckles slightly.

There must be some kind of link between our brains, because in perfect sync, Garrus and I both joke, "What could possibly go wrong?"

Gardner finally appears with a small stack of trays and glasses. "Ladies first," he says with a bow, handing Tali a plate of dark green waffles. The gold berries poking through look weirdly florescent, and her dark blue juice makes the whole picture very strange and contradicting. The cook places a straw in her glass before sliding me my tray. Pan-cooked corned beef hash, an English muffin, apple, and oversized glass of milk stop right in front of me, making my stomach growl again. Then across the table, silver eggs and toast find their way to Garrus.

Vakarian gags as I fork a bite of hash into my mouth. "How can you eat that mush?" he grumbles, digging through his eggs.

"Her fruit glows in the dark, your eggs look like they're made out of pewter, and you're questioning meat and potatoes?" I ask with a raised eyebrow. "And this is still better than Wrex's meals; my food doesn't fight back."

Tali starts laughing somewhat to herself. "Do you remember the breakfast after we left Therum, when he had that pink squid creature on his plate?"

Garrus chuckles even harder. "Hard to forget. Damn thing hissed at us."

"It didn't launch itself at your head." I remind them. "And you didn't have Wrex pry it off your face with a combat talon the size of a sniper rifle."

"The look on your face when he came charging at you with that machete," Tali gasps in between bouts of laughter. "I've never seen you so scared in my life!"

Garrus raises his glass high in a mocking toast. "The great Commander Shepard, terrified by a krogan side dish!"

A few good comebacks come to mind, but I let them win this round. I'll just get payback later.

Tali finishes the last of her tray, standing and handing it over to Gardner. "I should head down to engineering before Gabby kills Ken. You'll message me where to meet for lunch?" she says while popping her back.

Garrus nods as I get to my feet. "We will. Let me at least walk you over to the elevator."

As usual, she holds my hand and leads me to her destination. I follow behind quietly until she calls the annoyingly slow elevator. Before she gets the chance to turn around, I wrap my arms around her stomach and kiss the side of her mask. "Send me a message when you finish the repairs," I smile softly. "I'll try to make sure it's a short walk."

"There are cabs I could take, you know," she whispers, rubbing my hands.

I shake my head. "Not with Cerberus gunning for our heads. You know you'd be a big target for them. We all are."

She grips my hands tightly. "Ok. I'll walk, but you realize you're being overprotective, right?"

"Probably... I'll get you a taxi. Just share it with someone, alright? Kasumi or Thane probably wouldn't mind."

She rotates in my arms, setting her hands on my chest and her forehead on mine. "I will. But please don't worry so much. This shore leave is for you, too."

I lean in closer and smile. "I'll try. As long as you promise to take my mind off of things."

A coy little smile appears in her mask. "I'll see what I can do."

The elevator finally arrives, opening and asking for its passenger. Tali gives me another mask kiss on my forehead before retreating inside. I give her a little wave as she heads down to work.

Garrus is handing our scraps to Gardner when I round the corner again. "Long goodbye," he acknowledges with a bit of sarcasm.

"Slow elevator," I joke. "Think that'll be the next job the engineers get: making that damn thing move at normal speeds."

He shrugs. "Not a bad idea. I could build a ladder in the time it takes to get to the cargo hold."

"So you still want to go out and see the shops?"

"Yeah. Do we have time for a shower first? The coffee still hasn't kicked in yet."

I chuckle a little. "Sure. I was going to do the same. Meet you at the airlock in twenty?"

"See you there."

We head back to where I came, Garrus turning right instead of left for the showers while the elevator whirrs back up to me. Seriously, why the hell does this thing take so long? Finally, about a second before I start ripping out its wiring, it opens up and takes me up to the loft.

A nice morning shower and shave leaves me feeling awake and alive for the first time in a while. Killing the goatee I've had for so long is seriously weird, but it actually looks nice in the mirror. I don't look quite so... old. Never thought that'd be an issue at a few months past 30. Or is it 32? Nah. The years I was being rebuilt don't count. Anyway, I open up the closet and pull out one of the few outfits I have: a cheap white t-shirt, loose jeans, a black leather belt, and a pair of beat up running shoes.

I feed the fish and dig out my plain-clothes Predator holster. The little magnet clips to my belt, weighing hardly any more than a baseball and looking a lot like one. The Predator latches onto the silver orb and folds into itself, save the grip for a quick draw. I cram two spare thermal clips into my pocket, just in case. Security didn't have an issue with me walking around armed to the teeth last time, so I don't see them worrying about a sidearm.

The elevator takes me back down to the CIC soon enough. However, the door opening to six crew mates demanding my attention is not exactly a great start to the day. Miranda cuts through the crowd, straight to me with Chambers on her six. Mordin, Samara, Grunt, and Thane complete the horde waiting for me. "Commander!" "Shepard!" and "Here!" all slam into my ears in an unpleasant symphony.

I have to shout a few times to get everyone to shut up."Alright, Miranda, Kelly: you need my help with the leave rosters. Give me just a second to take care of them, then I'll get to you." The girls nod slowly, understanding the chaos going on. "Thanks. Mordin, you first."

The salarian raises a hand in gratitude. "Thank you, Shepard. Realize new status of shore leave changes rules of my work. Any new safety parameters?"

"Mordin, the shore leave applies to you, too. Keep it to a minimum."

"Define minimum."

"You remember that face I make sometimes when you tell me what you're doing and that worries me?"

He nods. "Yes. Slight raise of right eyebrow, pulling back of corners of mouth, expansion of pupils. Quite humorous, almost comical."

"If you think I would make that face, don't do it. And that's in addition to the original safety rules. No explosives, nothing airborne, nothing seriously acidic, and nothing alive. Clear enough?"

"Understood, Commander. Will cancel most experiments now. Possibly go out to the port, visit stores with new free time. Find travel brochures, look for beaches..." He's muttering to himself at a hundred miles an hour as he heads back to his lab. Don't even want to know what he just decided to cancel.

Grunt becomes the next one in line, almost lifting Kelly off the ground when he nudges her out of the way. "What do you want, Grunt?" I ask, semi-worried.

"Jack and Zaeed want to go out. Told me to ask for some money. We're broke."

I almost ask about Zaeed's payment for joining up, but realize it's not coming to him. Cerberus probably only gave him a little for signing up and promised the rest at the end. Blowing up the base definitely put that cash-in on hold. "Fair enough. Everyone on the crew's getting a thousand credits in spending money. It'll be transferred into accounts in an hour or so. Just wait until then." I turn my head to Kelly. "I'll need your help with that. Sorry, but you'll probably be better at it than I will."

Chambers nods as Grunt gets one of those demonic smirks on his face. "Hehehe. This will be fun."

Samara and Thane take Grunt's place as he leaves. "We both have the same question, Commander," Samara says as calm as ever. "How many days will we remain here for leave?"

"Should only be four days, probably a few hours of a fifth before we ship out. I don't want to risk any longer with Cerberus. Is that going to be an issue?"

They both shake their heads, though Thane's the first to answer. "No, Shepard. We simply wished to know."

"Thanks," I say quickly. "Hey, I've got a favor to ask both of you. Different one apiece."

"What are your orders?" Samara asks.

"Thane, yours is a bit easier. Tali's stuck in engineering, working until lunch, and then she's taking a cab to meet me, possibly sharing it with Kasumi. It would mean the world to me if you rode with her in the taxi, just to be safe. Anyone of us traveling alone could make us a target for Cerberus or anybody we pissed off the last time we were here. Would you mind?"

"It will be done," he says with a nod.

"Thanks. Samara, yours will probably take all day. Smart money is Jack, Zaeed, and Grunt will be traveling as a pack through the bars. Could you keep an eye on them for me? Don't try to stop them or anything; just keep them from biting off more than they can chew with mercs or cops. Apart from that, stay out of their sight. If they figure out that I'm having them followed, they'll probably be pissed. Please?"

Samara nods with a slight smile. "It would be an honor, Commander. I will be discreet."

"Thanks. I'll give you a bit more credits for the work. I owe you guys."

"You owe us nothing," Thane says, bowing his head slightly. "Call it even for bringing us back."

"And for helping our families," Samara finishes.

"Regardless, thank you for everything. Now go enjoy some shore leave. I'll be sure you get a day or two without any work." They both nod and head off for whatever they're doing to relax.

Miranda and Chambers are waiting for me when I turn back to the Yeoman's station, both with datapad in hand. "So we'll be docked for the next four days, Commander?" Miranda asks coolly.

"Best plan I could come up with. Give everybody some time to unwind, stock up on supplies. I think we all need to have some solid ground under our feet, even if it's only for a short time."

She nods as Kelly starts typing on her datapad. "We'll have to structure who enters and leaves the ship, as well as who will stay on duty," the brunette says. "Do you have any suggestions?"

"Basic idea. The details, you guys will have to work out. The combatants, everyone I recruited, Joker and Chakwas, get all four days to do whatever the hell they want. They have to keep the chaos down to a level that doesn't involve a planet-wide manhunt, but apart from that, I don't give a damn. Everyone else, slightly more structured. They get two days to wander around on their own off the ship, one day off from duty but still have to remain on-board, and one day of light duties. We need at least half of the crew on this ship at any given moment, in case something goes south."

Kelly, who was typing the whole time, raises her head from the screen. "That could work. What other precautions do we need to take?"

I let my mind run for a second before answering. "Everyone keeps the homing beacon on their omni-tool on, no exceptions. We need to be able to track and get in contact with everyone on a moment's notice. For anything we bring on-board, whether it's personal purchases or supplies we needed, it gets scanned and searched by security. And none of the rules about people bring in for the next few days. I don't care if one of the girls bought wine and some lingerie for her boyfriend to tear off: all I'm worried about are bugs, explosives, something that could hack us, and anything transmitting our position. And no one on board that's not one of us. Delivery and transport guys stop at the air lock and do not come in. EDI, are you listening?"

My computer screen is immediately replaced by her blue orb. "Yes, Shepard?"

"I need your knowledge of Cerberus and your hacking abilities. Scan every Cerberus channel you know: radio, extranet, phone, whole nine yards. Look for any mention of the crew, our location, the Normandy, etc. Also, help the security guys by scanning everybody who comes close to the ship and anything that gets brought in. Last thing: keep an eye on the homing beacons, make sure no one's trying to read into their signal, either. I realize I sound really paranoid, but Cerberus is more likely to execute us all than anything else. I'm not taking any chances."

"Understood, Commander." The little blue thing is gone again, working like mad on something.

"Everything sounds good," Miranda says as her fingers go mad on the keyboard. "We'll get to work on the schedules, try to get the friends get on the same shifts. Will there be anything else?"

"Don't forget to transfer the credits out to everyone from my resource account, and everyone try to enjoy their shore leave, alright? Blow off some steam while we've got the chance. Because that's all I'll be doing for the next four days."

With everything settled, I make my way up to the pilot's seat, where Joker and Garrus are chatting away. Joker notices me first, waving. "Hey, Commander. So when do the strippers get here?" he asks. I can't tell if he's joking or not.

"They're not, unless you're going out to them. Did your online collection get too routine?" I smile back.

Joker just shakes his head while Garrus chuckles. "One way to say hello." The Turian's wearing that purple and green atrocity again. I hate fashion in almost every way possible, but that thing seriously needs to be burned at the stake.

"And the better one is, 'The first thing we're doing is finding you better clothes, Vakarian.' And that is exactly I plan on doing," I smirk.

He raises his eyebrow defensively. "What's wrong with my clothes? And are you buying? Vigilante's salary isn't nearly as high as you'd think."

"Varren crap looks better than what you're wearing," Joker says while tinkering with his panels.

"The first outfit's on me, Garrus. I promise," I laugh. "Joker, no strippers while I'm gone. And remind Kasumi to keep her thievery under control when she leaves. No more than five thousand credits from one store in merchandise. And keep it sporadic enough no one makes the connection there's a thief on the loose."

Garrus chuckles under his breath. "That worried?"

"The convenience store we stopped at for my clothes. I believe the last words the manager screamed at us were, 'If I see any of you again, I'm mounting your heads on my register!' She just _had_ to have that painting."

"Fair enough. Ready to head out?"

"Yep. Let's see if we can't go one day without blowing something up."

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Joker shouts as Garrus leads out the air lock.


	3. Fierce

Apologies for another delay, minions. My dad's only stateside one month for every five, so we spend a lot of time together when he gets here. That's great for us, but no so much for my writing schedule. He's leaving again soon, so things should go back to normal soon. Come the 28th, I'll have another full chapter ready for you, and one each Sunday following. Apologies again, but hopefully you'll enjoy this. ~MGA

* * *

Fresh air flows over us as the lock opens. I close my eyes and breathe, savoring the scent and taste of real oxygen. The air filters on the Normandy are top notch, but after enough time without docking and getting new air, everything starts to go stale. Combined with the feeling of solid ground under my feet, and this shore leave is already phenomenal. Here's to a day that will continue this trend.

Garrus steps out a second before me, basking his face in the sunshine. "Spirits, this feels good," he sighs as he stretches his arms back.

"No kidding," I chuckle. "First time on solid ground, what, two weeks?"

"Yeah. It's not Palaven, but damn if it doesn't feel like paradise right now."

"Need to visit there one of these days; see the homeworld of the bird aliens. Drop in on your family, make them see that you're following someone even crazier you."

He looks back with a smirk. "Might have to take you up on that. Maybe they'll realize that most of the trouble I get into is your fault."

I walk up and punch him in the shoulder. "Hey, I get you out every time. And like you need my help finding chaos."

The fake look of hurt on his face is priceless as he withers from the hit. "I'm fragile. Don't break my delicate bird bones."

"That'd be ironic. Take a missle to the face and survive a suicide mission with only a bunch of scars, get your arm broken from a punch."

We just laugh as we head out to the markets.

As Liara's office comes into view, it dawns on me neither of us have any idea where we're going. Apart from the little hub we've orbited the last couple trips, we don't know any of the stores, the restaurants, or even where there's a john. "Any thoughts on where we should go?" I ask the still-smiling Turian.

The same revelation smacks him upside his head as his grin disappears. "Not in the slightest. Maybe a clothing store, since you seem so determined to get me to change. I don't know where, though."

"Hmm... I'll call Liara. She lived here for two years; she's got to know a few decent places."

I open my omni-tool and scroll through the contacts. T'soni's name appears soon enough, and I put in the request for a video conference. The line rings for a few moments before, "Connecting..." sprawls across the screen in dark red lettering.

The new Shadow Broker appears a heartbeat later, rubbing her eye and yawning straight into the camera. "Hey, I'm not your dentist," I joke with her mouth taking up three-quarters of the screen.

She shakes her head while blinking away drowsiness. "Sorry. You..." Another giant yawns takes over the mini-monitor. "... you beat my alarm clock by twenty minutes. It's only three-forty here."

"Sorry for waking you," Garrus immediately apologizes, leaning closer so Liara can see him.

"Hello, Garrus, and it's alright. I've had to keep odd hours lately. One of my agents is ten hours ahead of me, so I've had to be up early to talk with her. My sleep cycle is not when it should be."

"As long as you're getting your sleep," I say.

"I am, Aaron. Is there something I can do for you?"

"The crew and I are docked at Nos Astra for some shore leave. Garrus and I are heading out for some shopping, but we just realized we don't know the area at all. We were wondering if you could send us some recommendations, and maybe a good map."

She types a few things on a holographic keyboard, her eyes jumping every which way across a different computer screen. "That should be easy enough. I'll take a local map, put captions on each for what they sell and how good they've been in the past. Is there anything in particular you want me to look for?"

"A place for some good combat armor would be nice," Garrus requests.

"If you could, look for places that have clothes for humans and Turians. Also, a good restaurant that we could eat at. Lunch will probably include me, Garrus, Tali, Thane, and possibly Kasumi."

She nods, types blisteringly fast for another twenty seconds, then stops. "There. Is there anything else?"

I almost say nothing before remembering Tali's going to come shopping later. "Somewhere with Quarian stuff would be nice. Jewelry, clothes, anything. And maybe a few local distractions like movies, please."

Garrus chuckles under his breath as Liara writes for a few seconds more. "And... it's finished," she says, rubbing her eyes again. "I'll send it to your omni-tools. I'll also forward a less specific map to the Normandy, detailing places that should be avoided and shops that are interesting. The rest of the crew will probably find it helpful."

"Thanks, Liara," I say with a bit of surprise. Didn't expect her to go quite so all out with that. "I owe you one."

"It's no problem, Aaron," she smiles sweetly. "The maps will all come with programmable search engines, to help find things in particular. They're on their way now."

Garrus puts himself back into the conversation. "Thank you, Liara. Send Feron our regards."

As if on cue, there's a loud alarm on Liara's end of the call. "Time to wake up, Drell Shadow Broker! Time to wake up! Please rise, Drell Shadow Broker!" the info drone screams from some unseen corner.

The little blue orb flies at warp speed behind Liara, running in fear from a partially dressed Feron. The newly-awakened drell pursues, swinging a wrench like a baseball bat. "Come here, you stupid VI!"

Liara laughs as she starts to close the connection. "I should go before Feron breaks my poor drone."

"Have fun with that," Garrus chuckles.

"Talk to you later, Liara," I say and close the call. And I thought Jack was pissy in the mornings.

Our omni-tools beep in sync, signaling the arrival of the maps. Garrus opens his first, so we both look off of the one. Liara did a great job with it: everything within thirty mile radius of the Normandy's dock has some kind of caption beneath, detailing what it sells and what the prices tend to be. Each building has a little GPS marker that can be clicked for turn-by-turn directions, and the areas mercs or muggers tend to roam are shaded in dark red. Damn, she's fast.

Garrus points to one close by, maybe three blocks from the area we wandered the last time. "This looks like a good place to start. Close by, carries clothes for both of us."

I shrug. "Works for me. Let's just walk. No point in taking a cab for less than a mile."

We start walking in sync, feet going in perfect rhythm side by side. It's a semi-annoying habit I got in marching band. No matter who I'm walking with, my feet always adjust to match the other's tempo. If there's no one around, then it's to the music I play in one ear through my comms implant. It's easier than dealing with headphones, and too much silence always bothers me. My brain needs something keep it busy, or it gets itself into trouble.

Garrus and I head around a few more corners, ending up where that security officer pointed us towards Samara. Strangely, there's very few people in this market today. A few kiosk owners, maybe six other people in the courtyard, but a ghost town compared to usual. The quiet worries me: I feel for my Predator, just to make sure it's still there. "You armed?" I ask.

Garrus pats his right hip, a small bulge showing from the contact. "Camifex. Six clips packed in. You?"

I do a similar pat at my pistol. "Predator. Six in, two spares in my pocket. It's just paranoia, but this place's alleys aren't much better than Omega."

"No kidding. Surprised you're carrying that, though. The Camifex packs more punch," he comments.

"Don't like it. Kicks too hard, mag's too small, not enough bite for all the bark."

"I have to disagree with you on that one. One shot from this, anything charging is down for the count. Your Predator takes four or five."

"Not if you know what you're doing, Vakarian," I chuckle. "Camifex is good for Krogan and varren, I'll give you that much. But for anything else, I'll take a Predator any day. One good shot, tango down, eleven still in the mag. No recoil means you can shoot multiple tangos before they can react. Something gets too close for a head shot, you can pop three quick shots center mass, and tango isn't getting back up. I'll take small rounds with less kick over big any day."

Garrus nods his head approvingly. "Fair point. Mantis vs Viper debate. I still prefer the knowledge that anything I shoot's going down the first time for a self-defense weapon."

"You ever hear of Mossad, the old human spy service?"

His eyes focus on the distance for a few seconds before his mind comes up blank. "Don't think so."

"Special ops guys, finally got disbanded about a hundred years ago. They were out of this little war-torn country that was always in the middle of a small war; it was the starting point for a lot of religions, and they didn't get along real well. Since the place was so small and the military didn't have a lot of manpower, they relied a lot on cleverness and intelligence. Mossad was basically the Spectres and STG combined; they were given missions and left to take care of it with whatever they decided. Entire terrorist organizations would end up dead from just a handful of operatives, and almost every other agency on Earth knew to give these guys some breathing room. They were the boogeyman of the spy world. Anyway, they carried the smallest commercially available weapons. Their pistols were .22 calibers, bullets smaller than a dime. The shots wouldn't go through more than a few inches of wood, and they'd bounce off of metal or sometimes even bone. But they were the best shots in the business, and no one messed with them."

Garrus nods approvingly. "Good role models. Alright, you've got a point. I still like mine, but I can see where you're coming from. So if you like small weapons, why do you like that Cain and Widow so much?"

I shrug a bit. "I prefer things with more punch for distance shots. At that range, getting multiple targets isn't nearly as important as it is just making sure they're down. And for the bigger ones like Krogan or YMIRs, dealing a lot of damage before they can fire back is a huge advantage. The Cain: the rest of my heavy weapons are built more towards softening up multiple targets, not killing them. Blowing the shit out of everything in sight with one round is much more preferable."

"That's the gun to do it with," he chuckles. "Almost beats the Mako's cannon from the good old days."

"Find me another tank, and we'll compare damage. I'm sure we can find something that needs to be blown up," I grin.

The store finally comes into view, neon lights across the top screaming at patrons to come inside. "True Men: Everything for Every Male Species Under One Roof," flies by on an automated sign, with sales of the day following. Looks more like an entire mall instead of one little store. The map didn't do the place justice. "This will be interesting," Garrus comments.

I shake my head. "Bet you ten credits that some gay employee comes up and tries to drag us into 'fashionable' clothes."

He laughs. "Deal. But for me to pay you, he has to say one of us 'looks fierce.'"

"You're on, Vakarian."

The glass front door opens automatically for us, the hours posted on the side signaling the store's just opened. A drell clerk notices us immediately and makes a beeline our way. "Hello, boys!" he shouts with open arms. "Welcome to True Men_._ What can we do for you?"

"Hopefully find us a few things that are a little more presentable," I say while looking him over. He reminds me a bit of Kolyat: kinda blue skin, a youth to his face. He's a few inches taller, though, with much thinner arms and a higher voice. The dark red shirt doesn't do much for his lankiness, but it doesn't look bad on him. "I'm in desperate need for clothes in general, and we need to burn the atrocity that my Turian friend's wearing."

Garrus slugs me in the shoulder. "It's not that bad. I know a few women who like it."

"And those girls are what I like to call 'blind,'" the clerk critiques without missing a beat. "The shape works for you, but that color scheme is horrible with your clan markings. We need to put you in something that makes that blue of yours POP, get the women staring at those ocean eyes of yours."

"I win," I whisper, almost invoking another punch.

The drell shakes his head. "I'm going to need some help with you two. Follow me over here; the Turian and human sections are side-by-side." With a wave of his hand, he herds us off to the left.

It takes us only thirty seconds to get over to our sections, clearly marked by the giant signs hanging from the ceiling. Rows upon rows of clothes are there for all to see, more styles and sizes than I can count. Shopping malls were pretty much nonexistent on Mindoir, and most of my postings were in the middle of nowhere, so this is a bit of a new experience. It's a little... strange, to say the least.

The clerk claps his hand together, pointing to Garrus. "Ok. I'm going to start on you, since I've never been good with human sizing. Once we get you going, I'll find Michelle and get her over here. Tell me, what are you looking for?"

Garrus shrugs a little, his shoulders barely rising an inch. "I'm not sure. I spend most of my time in combat armor or workout clothes. Jeans and a shirt at most."

"What, no experimentation?" the drell jokes. "I'll need a little more than that if you want me to come up with something."

"He's a cop. What do most of the locals wear?" I suggest.

A slightly creepy smile grows on our helper's face. "Care to test those cuffs on me, Dirty Harry? So, police officer... I'm thinking something that says, 'I am just as likely to shoot you as I am to smile at you.' A tight, gray shirt that lines those arms of yours. Loose, dark blue jeans with jet black boots so you can deliver an ass kicking. Top it off with a white over-shirt that barely conceals your trusty pistol, in case there's someone jealous of your new outfit. I'll find that and some variations." He jogs off down the rack for whatever he's looking for.

Garrus turns to me with a startled fear in his eye. "You heard that too, right?"

Oh, there's no way in _Hell _I'm passing this up. "He's not your type, Garrus? Don't want to cuff him to the main gun, have some fun calibrating him? I'm sure both of you would enjoy it."

"If you tell anyone else about this, I will kill you."

"Tempting. Very, very tempting."

The drell comes back carrying a dozen shirts, jackets, and pants in slightly different sizes and styles. "You'll have to wait a moment on the boots, but this should get you started." The pile gets thrown onto Garrus without so much as a warning. "There's a changing room right here at the end of the hallway, with chairs right in front so your boyfriend can wait and preview. I'll be back with Michelle in just a moment. Yell, 'Tinkerbell!' if you need anything." After a less-than-subtle smack to Garrus' ass, Tinkerbell runs towards the employee area.

Now I'm scared.

Garrus looks over to me again. "That was..."

"Never to be spoken of again."

"My thoughts exactly."

I follow Garrus to the dressing rooms and take a chair off to the side, lest I let Tinkerbell think he's right. While the Turian slithers out of his current clothing, I open up my omni-tool: still need to send that song list over to Tali. Thanks to the wonder of extranet speeds, I think I can just send a copy of all the songs to her directly, instead of just sending links to online versions. I start digging through the list, selecting entire albums to be copied and sent. So, a little Shinedown, 3 Doors Down of course, a touch of Daughtry, Matt Nathanson, some Two Steps From Hell, a bit of Staind, a dash Holst, Gershwin, and Sousa, a sprinkling of Hunter Hayes and Phil Vassar for variety...

With a little over a hundred songs selected for transfer, I open the message app and start typing.

_Hey, Tali._

_ Here's a copy of those songs I promised. I tried to work in a little of everything. If I really doubted you'd like it though, I left it out so it doesn't clutter up the rest. But let me know if you come across anything that you really like, and I'll find some more to go along with it. I hope work's going alright. Just a few more hours until we get some lunch together. Really looking forward to it. :-)_

_ Take care. -Aaron._

With the list attached, I send it off at the speed of electricity.

An asari appears from behind the clothes with Tinkerbell hot on her tail. Guess this must be the resident human fashion expert. Here's hoping she's a little more subtle than her buddy. She offers a polite hand when she gets close. "Hello. My name's Michelle."

I get up from the chair and take it. "Shepard. Pleasure to meet you. I guess you're my assistant for the day?"

"That's one way to put it," she chuckles. "Would you like to start now?"

"Can it wait just a minute? I've got to give my best friend some crap for whatever he's wearing. No offense, Tinkerbell."

The drell waves a hand with a smile. "Ah, what is a relationship without some friendly prodding? I won't take it personally. I'll go check on our officer of the law."

As he wanders off towards Garrus, I lean to Michelle's ear. "Is his name really Tinkerbell? Because it's very fitting."

She laughs. "There's a human who works evenings here, Sarah. She gave him the nickname. It's easier to pronounce than his actual name. What does it mean, anyway? I've never had it explained to me."

"Tinkerbell is a fairy from an old children's tale. She's this itty-bitty sprite thing that's barely the size of my hand. She flies around, casting magic and glitter everywhere with a wand in her little emerald dress. A lot of humans call people who are especially feminine Tinkerbell or Tink."

"Now it makes sense," she whispers, trying to contain her smile. "Goddess, I think he dressed up like that once during a party, before the nickname."

"OH, MY GOD! YOU LOOK JUST _FIERCE_!" shouts Tink from the dressing rooms.

"Don't ever call me that again," Garrus grumbles. The Turian gets dragged out by his smaller companion, obviously not pleased with the compliment.

The new clothes actually aren't a bad look on him. The pants are a dark blue, just loose enough for him to move freely without them looking baggy, though the holes on each of his calves for his leg spikes are a bit weird for me. The shirt he settled on is a dressy dark-gray with buttons running down the front and a popped collar around his neck instead of the weird ridge at his collar bone. And his midnight dark jacket over it looks good, but I can tell he's uncomfortable as hell in it. "It's pretty good, Garrus," I say, trying to make him feel better.

He works his shoulders in an attempt to get used to the new tightness. "I can't stand this jacket. There's no freedom of movement. And why have so many buttons on the shirt? It doesn't make sense."

Tinkerbell looks him over. "Ok, the jacket is take-it-or-leave-it. It hides those gorgeous arms of yours. But you have _got_ to keep that shirt. Every female from here to the Palaven will be dreaming of holding you against a wall and undoing each and every one of them. Mm-MMM!"

"So apart from the jacket..." I cut in before Garrus knocks out the drell, "What do you think?"

Vakarian slides the unwanted accessory off his back and to the floor. "Without that, I actually kind of like it. It's more comfortable than I thought. It's different, but I like it."

Tinkerbell grabs the jacket and hangs it back up. "This works on you. The gray adds contrast without being so bright it takes attention from these gorgeous blue eyes. Wait right here while I find some shoes."

With his new friend gone, Garrus shakes his head. "Is he always so..."

"Every minute of every day," Michelle smiles. "He's good once you spend some time with him."

I take a new look at Garrus. The shirt is actually a short sleeve, something I didn't realize when it was hidden behind the jacket. His arms are... different than I imagined. They're quite a bit like his neck, with a semi-thick skin covered off and on by almost krogan plates. Nothing looks too hard or uncomfortable to the touch, but he's definitely got thicker skin than humans. "This is the first time I've every seen your arms, Garrus," I say to explain my staring.

He nods. "It is, isn't it? Shorter sleeves aren't exactly common to Turians. Probably has something to do with all the radiation on Palaven. We think uncovered skin will leave us glowing in the dark."

"Makes sense, I guess," I shrug.

Tinkerbell comes back, carrying three boxes of shoes for Garrus to try. "These are light weight running shoes with reinforced toe and sole. Most of the detectives wear them. They match these pants perfectly, and should be just the thing for you. Try them on, see which are the best fit."

They're not bad looking shoes: a deep, almost emerald green base color with flecks of black scattered across and white laces. Clearly not built for human feet, but not bad looking at all. As Garrus slides into the first pair, my omni-tool beeps with a message. I take a few steps towards the corner and open it.

_Thank you for the songs, Aaron. Listening to them is helping the time pass. Gabby and Ken are bickering as usual, but they're not trying to kill each other any more. We should be done in a few hours, right before lunch. I will let you know if I find music I really like. You did remember that you sent some of these songs to me a few months ago, right? Can't wait for lunch._

_ Imaginary unmasked kisses. -Tali._

_ P.S.: I really want to listen to "Still" while wrapped up in hotel sheets with you. We'll get the chance soon, right? :-)_

Now that she's said it, I do remember sending her that list before. It was... not long before we started dating. We had a short music conversation during lunch, and I sent her some to show what I was listening to. Completely forgot about that.

"Your girlfriend?" Michelle asks.

"Yeah," I chuckle, closing the message. I'll reply in a minute. "How could you tell?"

"Your smile. Every man smiles when he hears from someone he loves, a very distinct smile. It's hard not to notice."

"Very observant." Somewhere in the back of my head, my mind latches onto the part about love in her last sentence. It's not saying to argue with it or anything, just... I don't know.

Vakarian stands with his new kicks on, bouncing on the balls of his feet to test them. "Not bad," he comments. "Lighter than the boots on my armor. More comfortable, too."

Tinkerbell nods approvingly. "That's the idea. I feel accomplished today. I've taken a stubborn cop with no fashion sense and turned him into-" he kisses his hands for dramatic effect and points to Garrus, "-perfection. I've done it again, Michelle!"

"That you did, Tink," the asari smiles. "Ready for your turn, Shepard?"

I shrug. "What the hell? Let's see what we can do."


	4. Explosions:Flirty Drell Ratio

"So what brings the one and only human Spectre to True Men?" Michelle asks, running her eyes and fingers through the racks of clothes. We're two rows over from Garrus and his new friend, close enough to hear the drell's barrage of suggestions and the Turian's exasperated sighs.

I shrug a little and examine a jacket that caught my eye. Dark brown leather, two chest pockets with hidden zippers, two open ones at the bottom. Not bad, about a thousand credits more than I'll ever pay for a piece of clothing. Not gonna happen. "My crew's been neck deep in a living Hell for the last few months. We needed to take some leave, remember the galaxy ain't as bad as we tend to think. Nos Astra was the best place to dock, and I'm in desperate need of clothes."

"Why is that? Celebrities like you usually have closets bigger than my sister's apartment."

"Well, most of my wardrobe got lit on fire last week. Not a whole lot left afterward."

She stops looking through clothes long enough to laugh. "Why were your clothes burning? And how did the crew react?"

"I took the match to them myself," I say with pride, hoping to freak her out a bit. "The crew was cheering me on. And no, no alcohol, drugs, or lost bets were involved."

"Fame and eccentricity are two sides of the same coin," she smiles with a joking gleam in her eye.

She pulls out three pairs of jeans with two short sleeved shirts. "Ok, I'm going to cheat and play with Tinkerbell's idea for you. Your friend doesn't seem to like jackets, so the two of you shouldn't look like Siamese twins walking down the street. Jeans, white shirt, and a stunning jacket to top it off. I'm thinking black, distressed leather with crimson accents. Does that sound good?"

"Works for me," I nod. "I'll try these on, see how well it fits."

The small pile of clothes falls into my hands, far gentler than when it was tossed onto Garrus. "End of the hall on your left for a changing room. I'll see what I can do about finding a jacket. Give me a shout if you need anything."

I carry the load down the rows, through two small doors, and finally into the surprisingly spacious fitting room. Three hooks hang from the wall, across from a mirror and a small chair to set my things on. I unhook the holster from my belt and set in on said seat, taking care to remove the pistol and leaving it extended for a quick grab. With that slightly paranoid precaution taken care of, I settle back into shore leave mode again.

The first shirt is a few steps down from Garrus' overly-fancy one: short sleeves with no collar or buttons, but thick stitching like a polo. It's a lot whiter than his and doesn't look bad in the mirror. I bite the inside of my lip for a few seconds, then decide against it. Too heavy to be worn with something else. The next is a soft v-neck in the same color. It feels like some kind of cotton and synthetic mix, stretching a bit with movement. Actually really comfortable, and it almost looks like a slightly oversized muscle shirt. This one, I've got to go with. Tali should like it. All three of the jeans are a great, loose fit with only a slight need for a belt. The darkest of the trio's a little more comfortable, so I'll stick with that one.

I come back out wearing the new ones that I like, carrying my old clothes and the ones I don't want on opposing arms. The holster's hooked back up to my belt, the Predator is glued against it like before and spare clips in my pocket. Michelle's waiting for me with a rack of jackets and hangers. "This is a good look on you," she nods, eyeing me over. "Not quite finished, but it's a good start."

"More than I would've accomplished on my own, that's for sure. I decided against these, but I'm keeping the ones I've got on."

She takes the unused merchandise and places it onto her mini-rack. "Here's some jackets for you. Do you want some shoes to try too?"

"I think I'll pass on that," I say while examining the gray sneakers. "Mine aren't beat up too badly. More jeans and shirts would be welcome, though."

"Sounds good to me," she nods. "You take your pick out of these jackets while I hunt for more pants like the ones you have on."

I give her a quick thumbs-up. "Please and thank you."

Michelle wanders off as I run my fingers through the line of accessories. Garrus soon takes her place with obvious exhaustion in his eyes. "How many cops do you think would come if I killed Tinkerbell over there?" he grumbles, clenching a fist.

I chuckle and grab a hanger. "More than we could take without sniper rifles. He can't be that bad."

"He asked which I was better with: the pistol I use to kill, or the one I use to please. One guess which one he was looking at."

"Hey, at least your scars haven't hurt you love life."

He shakes his head. "Spirits. A girl coming on that bluntly bothers me. A man named Tinkerbell is worse."

"Just ignore him. We'll be out of here soon." I shrug a jacket onto my shoulders, surprised at how comfortable it is. It's a very lightweight leather with a thin lining. The sleeves stop right past my wrists, with the bottom hanging just below pocket level. There's no restriction of movement at all, which is a nice improvement from Garrus' earlier choice. The leather is jet black with a thin red stripe running down the shoulders and arms, almost like N7 armor. Two outside pockets, two inside by my ribs, not cooking hot to wear, and actually decently priced for leather. Think I might have to get this one.

"Not bad," Vakarian comments. "Looks like it was made for you, honestly."

"Thanks." I pull on the front of it a little, noting the strangely wide opening. It's only a bit loose around my torso, but I could almost fit a small person against my chest and zip it up around them. It makes the jacket itself very comfortable, if a bit odd. You can't see the extra width in the mirror, so it doesn't bother me. Might actually help hide the Predator if I get a shoulder holster. "Think I'll get it. Better than the hoody I'm stuck with at the moment."

Garrus nods. "Might want to get a replacement for that, too. It looked like it was on its last leg this morning."

"Only paid ten credits for it anyway, so no big loss. It lasted the week."

Michelle finally comes back with a new load of pants and shirts. "Oh, that is perfect for you, Shepard. You have to get it."

"I probably will," I shrug. "Got some more clothes for me to try?"

"Yes. I found some v-necks and dress shirts. They should give you something to play with for more outfits. After that, I've got twelve pairs of jeans for you to pick from. That should fill your burnt wardrobe back up."

"Sounds good to me. I'll go try the shirts. Garrus, you want to look through the map, see if you can't pick somewhere for us to go after this?"

He nods. "No problem, as long as Tinkerbell doesn't come back over here." He opens his omni-tool and start scouring his map.

Michelle starts to turn away when I stop her with a hand on the shoulder. "Can I ask three things real quick?"

She looks a little surprised, but she stays courteous. "What do you have in mind?"

"Could you see if you can't find me a kind of thin, black hoody for me? Something with a zipper up the front would be preferable. Also, can you deliver these clothes to my ship? As long as they get here some time today, I'll be happy. Finally, when you ring me up at the register, can I be wearing some of these clothes?"

"The hoody, I'm sure I can find somewhere. The delivery is easy. However, that will cost you an additional 1% in fees. And you're free to wear them out as long as you pay for them. Will that be it?"

"Yep. Thank you. I'll go try these shirts on."

I make quick work through the pile of tops, digging through a dozen of them in a little over five minutes. Never been real big on clothes shopping. Something I got from my mom, thank the Lord. Dad, the family musician and artist, could drive Tinkerbell to shoot himself with his diva finickiness. I have a very distinct memory of us going shopping for him once and only getting a single shirt after five hours of trying and browsing. Regardless, nine of the original twelve shirts will be going home to my closet.

Garrus is waiting outside for me, omni-tool open and lit up like a Christmas tree. "I think I found something that might interest you," he says with a slight smirk, the one that always worries me.

I hand my clothes off to Michelle before turning my attention to him. "What've you got?"

"I just found out one of my old captains retired to Nos Astra. He owns a gym a few miles from here, one that hosts a lot of fighting tournaments and exhibitions. It's on the other side of a strip mall, and there's a restaurant next door that serves food for everyone on our list. I'm thinking we work our way through the mall, hang out at the gym for a little while, then we can all meet for lunch."

"Well, that's convenient," I chuckle. "Let's do it. Get in touch with your old captain, make sure he knows we're coming and to disarm the security system. Let's keep the police firefights to a minimum."

"Fine. We'll do it the easy way," he grumbles with feigned disappointment. "It's not as fun without gunfire."

"You two enjoy getting into trouble, don't you?" Michelle jokes.

"Trouble finds us so much, we miss it when it's not around," I smile. "I'm surprised insurance companies don't put trackers on us just so they know where all their money's about to go."

"I saw a video of your incident on the Citadel when you used that statue of the mass relay while driving a tank. If that's any indicator, I'm glad we have insurance."

"Please. If you want to see destruction, you should've been with us on Tuchanka. We had a run-in with a very large thresher maw, and we hunted pyjacks with missile launchers."

"I'm officially staying on your good side, Commander," she laughs and hands me a armful of jeans, topped off with a black hoody. "These should work for you."

"Thank you kindly. I shall return."

I try to get back into the dressing rooms, but Tinkerbell cuts me off. "Sorry," he apologizes without really noticing me; his eyes are glued on Garrus again. "I just had a revelation. One word: piercings. Get a few of them on your head crest, something nice and sparkly. Make three long streaks of gems all the way down to your fringe. They are _all_ the rage right now. Even the mechs will stop to admire you."

Garrus backs up and reaches for his pistol. "You come near me with anything sharp, and I swear you will leave here in a body bag."

"Oh, a tease," The drell says, a slight shiver moving through his body. "I _love _when they put up a fight. It is so fierce."

"STOP CALLING ME THAT!"

After Michelle and I saved Tinkerbell from a painful death at the hands of the terrified Turian, I got through all the clothes that were brought to me. Everything was a perfect fit, but I only decided to keep six of the pants and the hoody, just for practicality's sake. From the look of the price tags, this trip is going to set me back a little more than six hundred credits, less than I expected. Good thing I stashed so much of the Cerberus funding. Their accountants are probably pissing themselves right now, realizing how much of their money I cost them. I'm above stealing or scavenging from people like on Omega or the Alarei, but I don't feel bad about Cerberus. Besides, I didn't steal it. They gave it to me... And I forgot to give it back. I'll get around to it. Maybe.

I come back out wearing the new outfit that's staying on for the rest of the day: lightly faded blue jeans, white v-neck, new leather jacket, and the slightly torn-up silver running shoes. Michelle takes everything else and crams it all into large paper bags. "Will that be all for you?" she asks sweetly.

"I think I'm good as soon as I pay. Or can I leave without doing that?" I joke.

"And what, leave me with the bill?" Garrus chimes in. "Don't act like you wouldn't."

Michelle grabs all bags, standing with her new load. "How about I take you two over at this register before you start shooting at each other?"

"No fun," Garrus and I say in sync, which earns another smile and a head shake from the asari.

As we follow to the register, my omni-tool beeps with another message. From Samara. Oh, crap, who died?

_Shepard, there's been a development in my assignment. Jack and Grunt are heading out together for the bars, but Zaeed is planning on staying on the ship for some time. I will follow the krogan and his companion with discretion, but I cannot watch the mercenary. I am instructing EDI to monitor his homing beacon when he leaves. Please notify me with your wishes. -Samara_

While trying not to walk into walls at the same time, I type out a quick response.

_ Alright. Thanks for the heads up. Keep an eye on Grunt and Jack, make sure they don't get into too much trouble. If you see a situation brewing, send me a message and give them a hand. I'll get over to help if I'm close by. Zaeed will be fine on his own. Be careful out there. There's no telling what those two can get themselves into. _

"You are paying for your friend's outfit, correct?" Michelle asks from behind the counter. I didn't even realize we were there yet. Guess I'm not quite the multi-tasker I thought.

I shake my head a bit. "Yes, all of it's being charged to my account. And anything we're not wearing is being delivered to our ship. I'm assuming you'll need that address."

"Just a dock address and the ship name."

I fill out all of the forms required, noting all of my money leaving my wallet. Damn, I thought paying for weapons upgrades sucked. And... how the hell did Garrus spend three hundred credits on one outfit?! I could've built a rifle from scratch with that kind of money! "You're lucky I promised I would pay for this Garrus. Otherwise, I would skin you and sell the hide to make up the difference."

"Hey, you never set a price limit," he smirks. "And if you actually paid me for my work-"

"Don't give me that crap!" I laugh. "Do you know how much it cost for Chakwas to put your face back together, not to mention that damn fancy coffee you need every morning? Even if I paid you Zaeed's wage, you'd still be owing me money. And don't even get me started on all the rifle upgrades I gave you for free."

"So why do you keep me around, if I cost you so much money? If the scars are turning you on, just say so," he retaliates, smile even wider.

"Sure, Vakarian. The only reason I let you stay on my ship is because I'm secretly hoping you'll get the nerve to come on to me. Then I can hold you down and do unspeakably naughty things to you while _Up All Night_ plays loud enough to rattle the fish tank."

"I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT!" Tinkerbell shouts, prancing over to the register. "I KNEW TWO YOU WERE A COUPLE!"

Garrus and I facepalm in sync. "Can we please get out of here?" the Turian grumbles under his breath.

Michelle nods and hands me a receipt. "Yes, we're all done. Everything will be delivered by lunch time."

"Thank you," I say. I cram the paper into my pocket and 180 for the door. "You guys have a good day. And for future reference, I have a girlfriend, and she sure as hell isn't this dumbass."

The asari just laughs and waves. "Enjoy your day, gentlemen. Come back soon."

"Call me, Dirty Harry!" Tink shouts, Garrus and I half-sprinting for the door.

Once outside, we keep moving until we get to the next block. A single thought crosses my mind when we stop at the street's corner: why the hell are we running? It's not like they're gonna chase us down or anything. Regardless, we're laughing and breathing a little harder when we lean against the wall. "Well, that was an adventure," I chuckle, adjusting my Predator so it isn't digging into my side.

"For future reference, I prefer my adventures with a three-to-one explosions:flirting drell ratio," Garrus jokes. "At least we got our clothes."

"Fair enough. Let's just avoid that place, or at least come in during a different shift."

"Agreed. And we speak of this to no one."

"What? Don't want to come out of the closet just yet?" I grin.

"You start that rumor, I will have Legion and EDI edit you into a porno and send it to everyone on the ship. It'll be your voice, your body, everything. Admiral Hackett will even get a copy."

I throw my hands up in surrender. "Alright. Fine."

He tilts his head to the side, pointing his crest at the next block. "Come on. The mall's maybe a mile this way. Might as well get a start now."

I lean back off of the wall. "Lead the way. I'll send Tali a text while we walk."

"No problem. Just keep those messages to a minimum. You can be alone with me for a few hours." He starts walking due east, stretching his shoulders in his new clothes.

"Hey, Tali's the only reason we haven't killed each other yet. She deserves a message from time to time," I joke. My omni-tool glows to life again, and the message inbox appears for me.

_Glad things are going well over there and the music is helping. Tell Gabby and Ken to play nice; I don't want any more cat fights on my leave. And honestly, I completely forgot I sent you those other songs before you mentioned it. At least you've got plenty to enjoy, right? I think Garrus found a good restaurant for us to eat at, about three miles from the docking bay. I'll be sure to order the cab for you guys; just let me know when you start wrapping up. (Thane agreed to ride with you, regardless of anyone else who tags along with you. If you don't want him to, I understand. Just tell him.) Anyway, have fun with work._

_ And about those kisses and hotel sheets: you tell me when, and I will book the room. Or you could surprise me in the cabin. As long as you do some more of your adorable stuttering and it's sometime very, very soon. ;-) Either way, we'll play that song as long as you want, and those unmasked kisses won't be imaginary anymore. _

_ Take care, Tali. -Your dashing and strange boyfriend, Aaron_

I fire it off and focus back on what's in front of me before I walk into a wall. "Do I want to know the contents of that message?" Garrus asks with blunt sarcasm.

"It was PG, don't worry," I smile. "We don't talk dirty, in person or long distance. She's just anxious for lunch."

Vakarian looks back with a slightly raised eyebrow. "Nothing? I figured you guys wouldn't do that a lot, but none?"

I shrug. "What? It's not our style. We'll make a few jokes about getting her out of her suit and kissing again, occasionally one or two about more than kissing, but no 'talk dirty to me' crap. It's just not us."

"Tali, I can understand. She's too... inexperienced to even try. But you, I don't get."

"I'm not nearly the expert you seem to think, Garrus."

"What does that mean?" he snorts like he's trying to suppress a laugh.

"Contrary to your belief, I'm no ladies man. Just because I happen to be somewhat famous doesn't mean I'm any good with relationships."

"Your sex life can't be that bad. You've already had two girlfriends in the time I've known you, and both of them have ended up in your bed."

"Which makes up sixty-six-point-six percent of all of the relationships I've ever had sex in."

That last part gets him to stop in his tracks. "Wait, you've only been with three women?"

I shrug again. "I suck at dating. I didn't even start until I was enlisted, and I prefer more stable, long term relationships than anything else. Sex isn't one of my goals in the deal. And yes, I realize this is strange coming from a male of any species."

He shakes his head a little. "I didn't figure you were into casual sex or anything, but I was seriously off on that particular assumption."

"I'm weird. What can I say? I've had nine girlfriends, five of them being serious relationships, and only three of them resulted in sex. Yes, there's been so few I can keep track. Call me crazy."

"I wasn't trying to offend you," Garrus says, laying a hand on my shoulder. "I assumed something different, and it caught me off-guard that I was so wrong. There's nothing wrong with wanting serious relationships before sex."

I smile and give him a friendly jab in the ribs. "Hey, don't worry about it. I understand. No harm, no foul. But out of curiosity, what gave you the impression that I was more... experienced?"

He fires back a good right with a grin. "Thanks. You seemed like you had some notches carved into your belt. Confident with women, not flustered when they came on to you, you flirted a little with some of the girls on the ship. That, and Ashley. I know that wasn't casual sex; you two had a relationship. But honestly, you seemed more like friends than anything else, and having sex that early, I assumed it was standard protocol."

"Eh, fair enough. I just know how to keep my inner freak outs hidden, which is why I seemed confident. Negotiating for peoples' lives makes flirting seem simpler. But as for me and Ash... I will admit that was a really weird relationship. Don't get me wrong, I was attracted to her and everything, but you're right that we were more friends than anything else. Ash pushed more for a relationship than I did, honestly. I know it sounds weird, but that whole thing felt... off. I think Ash wanted us to be together and the situation and the stress just helped it along. I don't really know."

"What's that human saying? 'Cset la vie,' or something like that?"

"Yep, something like that," I smile. "Life goes on. I'm in an amazing relationship now with an even more amazing girl. I'm not going to complain."

"There we go," he nods. "Come on. The mall's two blocks over, and there's a armor shop right at the entrance."

"On your six."

We walk side-by-side until the mall's big banner and gate comes into view. But before we can walk in, a one-horned salarian catches my eye. Mordin' right across the street, coming out of a travel agent's office. He's actually in something besides his lab/combat outfit. A Hawaiian-looking button-up shirt hugs his small frame, along with a little straw hat, khaki shorts, sandals, and the most hilarious pair of sunglasses I've ever seen. All that's missing is the drink with a beach umbrella in it. "Hey, professor!" I shout to get his attention.

He looks around for a few seconds, surprised by the sudden sound. After he locates us, he makes the quick jog over. "Shepard, Vakarian. Pleasant surprise to see you here. Appears you have already made purchases. Look good," he smiles.

"Thanks," Garrus says. "So how does the great Professor Solus plan to spend his shore leave?"

Mordin holds up a small travel pamphlet with a picture of a tropical beach on it. "Artificial beach, roughly forty miles from here. Heat of Illium's surface too high to visit naturally occurring beaches at ground level, but local asari have created one for tourists to visit. Six science museums and four labs withing walking distance, affordable hotel with great view. Many pleasant distractions."

I raise a bit of an eyebrow. "Mordin, I've told you that you can be a very strange man, right?"

"What? Salarian physiology makes relaxing problematic. Can't stay still for long, must work on something. Will make time to lay on the beach, play in the water. Possibly examine sea shells and non-sapient fauna, something besides Collector work. With any luck, will find another scientist to talk to, discuss latest advances in different fields. Always anxious to learn."

"Why don't you have a vacation away from the work completely? You do the same thing too much, you get tired of it," I say, trying to get him away from any more labs. In addition to burnout, the man would probably kill half the planet in some experiment.

"Aaron, you do realize that we're going to a kickboxing gym, right?" Garrus chimes in. "Kind of the same thing with a different coat of paint."

It takes me a second to reach the same conclusion. "Fair enough. Mordin, just try to relax some, alright?"

Doc nods. "Don't worry, Shepard. Will keep working to minimum. Most of the lab and museum visits simple curiosity. However, slightly vested interest to see one of the experimental genetics labs. Currently working on converting on species DNA into compatible form for another. Example: take sample of human semen, convert to be accepted by Turian physiology. Turian female can then become pregnant from human male. Possibilities endless for cross-species couples. Nephew working on thesis about the topic. Want to help him. Also, great chance to learn. Groundbreaking work."

That would be one hell of an accomplishment. "Hey, if you'll enjoy it, be my guest. Make sure to check in with the Normandy from time to time."

He nods with a smile. "Will do, Shepard. Enjoy your shopping. You too, Vakarian."

"See you later, Mordin," Garrus says as the salarian leaves. I give him a quick wave and lead into the mall.

* * *

The song mentioned above, _Up All Night,_ is from Hinder's _Take It To The Limit_ album.


	5. Kid In a Candy Store

Sorry for the annoyingly long wait for this chapter, minions. I wanted to try and have it up over two weeks ago... And then life went "f*** you." The first week, I was spending eight hours a day packing all of my crap into bags so I could move into my dorm for the new semester. The week after that, I was marching in the band roughly twelve hours a day, losing five pounds in the process. And after all that, the first week of school started again, with me taking two computer classes, computer math, anthropology, and fundamentals of public speaking. So yeah, I've been running around like a chicken with its head cut off for a while now.

Admittedly, this is not my favorite chapter so far, but I hope it does partially make up for the long wait. I'll try to get into a week/every other week posting schedule, but I can't make any promises. We'll have to see how much time marching band takes of my life again.

Anyway, enough boring you with my troubles. On to the story! Hope you all enjoy it!

* * *

The armor shop, simply called _Xern's Weapons and Armaments,_ is a twelfth of the size _True _Men, only a few feet bigger than my loft. Brightly lit display cases holding every piece of equipment imaginable run the length of the room, all leading to a register at the far end. I smell the faint aroma of unwrapped weapons, which brings a smile to my face. New car smell my ass: nothing compares to a brand new rifle or knife.

"Ah, my first customers of the day," a mid-twenties Turian calls out from behind the counter. He's built on the thinner side with a light brown skin tone, surprisingly bright blue eyes, and a friendly smile on his face. His voice hints at a short time in the military, but the lack of weathering on him says it wasn't for more than a few years. He's wearing a slightly tight black polo shirt, khakis pants, and what looks a lot like a shark tooth necklace. Somewhere in the back of my head, I compare him to a twenty-something from Hawaii. "Name's Xern, and yes, this is my place. What can I do for you boys?"

Garrus steps up first. "Looking for some good combat armor. My last set got shredded by gunship fire."

The owner smiles. "Well, if you'd been wearing my armor, that wouldn't have been an issue. And your face would still be in one piece."

"Eh, he's got medical, so putting him back together was on me," I joke, patting Garrus on his shoulder. "He needs that, I need a new holster for my Predator, something concealed and under my arm."

"Ah, it's already a great morning," Xern says while cracking his knuckles. "Alright, we'll start with the armor. How heavy are you thinking? You look like medium armor, something with mobility, but can still take some hits. Enhanced shields, maybe?"

"That about sums it up. It can't restrict my arms at all, though. I need to be able to use my Mantis without being slowed down," Vakarian explains.

The younger Turian nods. "Sniper. Figures: that visor of yours is a giveaway. Nice piece, though. Gotta be custom."

"I know a guy on the Citadel," Garrus smiles with a shrug. "Armor also needs a decent computer to sync up with this and has to have enough processing power to keep up."

"I've got just the model for you. Rolled out three months ago, very popular with private sector snipers. Come over here and look." Xern points to a dark green display to his left, only a few feet from his counter.

I follow Garrus over to the apparently awe-inspiring armor. Up close, it's... actually pretty damn good. The Turian suit is built almost like a krogan's, with several tough plates mixed and melted together. Not quite as thick, but they can definitely take a beating. And the usual bullet-resistant fabric to cover moving body parts are instead covered by some kind of thin, malleable plate that looks just as tough as the center pieces. The joints have gotten a pretty big makeover too, each a little different to fit whatever body part they're protecting. Larger joints, like shoulders and hips, now have a large circular pad on them, looking twice as strong as the old kind without restricting movement. The elbows and knees have gotten their pads extended so they cover more, leaving only what's necessary to rotate uncovered and free to move. The general stream line frame shape reminds me a bit of a motorcycle from around 2015, with a sliver paint job and dark blue accents. Xern might as well have put up a sign, "Special order for Vakarian."

"Not bad at all," Garrus says, reading my mind.

"That doesn't even begin to describe it," the owner/clerk smiles. "Her shields are equal to a frontline troop's, and her onboard computer has more power than a Savant omni-tool. Takes a beating like heavy armor, moves like light. Too expensive for government issue, but she's getting real popular with private security or mercs. She'll set you back about twelve thousand credits, but comes with ten year unconditional warranty. If she breaks from anything, refund or free replacement on the house."

Garrus lets out a small whistle, which I didn't realize was possible with a Turian mouth. "Tempting. Very, very tempting."

"Hey, I wouldn't expect you to buy it without a test run. Let's find one in your size, have you play with her for a few minutes. I've even got a VR simulator to give her a test run. Interested?" Xern knows how to make a sale, I'll give him that much.

"I'm fine waiting out here while you try it on," I tell Garrus. "I've still got a holster to find, anyway."

He taps his fingers on his leg for a second, having a quick mental debate. "Alright. I'll keep it short. Shouldn't take too long."

"Try not to embarrass the simulation too badly. It might not keep up with your kill count."

Xern leads him on back behind the register, Garrus almost skipping with excitement. On my own again, I look over civilian display closer towards the front. Most of the basics for self-defense are here: mace, stun gun, couple of expanding batons, nice collection of knives and small pistols. There's one handgun that looks just like a Makarov from back in the 20th century, but the slot for thermal clips tells her true age. Shame. I would've gotten her if she was authentic. Always been a bit fascinated with old weapons. Ok, weapons in general, but older ones particularly.

The case above contains all the holsters, unlocked and hanging open. Strange for any store, until I realize each item is tagged by a security tracker and a warning that the item will burst into flames if taken out of the store, thanks to a one-shot incinerate tech installed inside. Well, that's one way to discourage theft. One holster catches my eye. Made out of a decent synthetic, it loops around the neck like a messenger bag and hangs about rib level. More akin to the old-school holsters of cramming the barrel into it, rather than the magnetic folding ones. There's still a small magnet mounted in it, so the pistol never falls out and it semi-folds in on itself for easier concealment, but still leaves the grip out for quick draws. Not that far off from the one I stashed in Hock's party. The small price tag of twenty credits cements her fate as mine, so I take her off the wall and continue browsing.

Another omni-tool message steals my attention, this latest one from EDI. The idea of an AI with a dark sense of humor texting me during shore leave has me a little worried. If she's trying to screw with my head again...

_Shepard, Samara wished for me to notify you with updates on Zaeed's status. He has left the Normandy with Doctor Chakwas, with the intentions of treating her to something, quote, "pretty goddamn special." His omni-tool has a GPS marker set for a small business three blocks to your north, known for its mercenary connections. I will continue to monitor him and update you if he strays far from this location. -EDI._

I send off a quick thanks and return to the displays. A few ideas cross my mind of what the old merc's up to, but there's no telling. Maybe someone didn't pay him and he wants his cut... No, why would he bring Chakwas along for that? A dozen similar ideas run through my head with identical results. I feel like I'm in an old episode of _Castle:_ even the stuff I'm making up in my head doesn't make any sense.

I kill a good twenty minutes examining rifles and scope upgrades, along with the occasional venture into the magazines on the counter. Apparently, the Council and the Alliance are working together to create some seriously powerful anti-material sniper rifle that doesn't shatter arms, the Black Widow. Real original name, but a reduced kick would be a nice improvement over my model. Finally, the Turians return before I shoot myself out of boredom. The grin on Garrus' face reminds me of a kid with a brand new toy as he carries his armor in a giant shopping bag. "So you enjoyed the test run?" I chuckle.

He nods a dozen times with childish joy I've never seen. "This model makes anything I've ever used seem like I taped sheets of metal over myself and called it armor. I can move better in this than I do in training sweats, and the kinetic barriers can take as much as the Mako's. The computer not only keeps up with my visor, but predicts where I'm going to be shot at from, and even compensates for wind when I try to aim."

Xern gives a slight bow and laughs. "I only sell the best."

"Well, when I start getting a steady paycheck again, I'll come back and see what we can do for me," I say and smile. "So this one's a keeper, Garrus?"

He finally gets himself under control and lays the bag on the counter. "Definitely. Don't worry, I'm paying for this one. You're not the only one with a secret stash of credits."

The younger Turian starts to ring up the purchase, then stops. "I've got a proposition for you," he says, eyeing Garrus. "I'll knock a thousand credits off the price if you can put me in touch with the guy who made that visor. I'm looking for someone to ship custom jobs out to, and that little marvel is a exactly what a few of my clients are looking for."

Before Vakarian can answer, I elbow him in the ribs to signal silence. "I've got a better idea. Two thousand off, he gives you the contact information for the creator, and we both give you a vid advertisement for your store. The first human Spectre and one of the top snipers in the Turian military promoting your store has got to drum up some business."

"Thirteen hundred and free delivery," Xern immediately replies. Guess it wouldn't be fun if it was that easy.

"Two months ago, we cleared out Dantius Towers against an army of Eclipse mercs, the Eclipse base itself, and their top captain," Garrus chimes in, catching on. "Word's gotten around. If people thought we were using your weapons, everybody would be coming here. That's worth a lot more than three hundred credits."

The salesman purses his lips while debating his next reply. "Fifteen hundred off. You wear the armor in the vid, and he holds one of my weapons for it. That still includes the name and number of the guy who made that visor, and shipping will still be free."

Garrus holds his hand out for a shake. "Deal. We can tape it as soon as I pay."

"You boys know how to negotiate," Xern says while taking the hand. "This better be a damn good commercial."

"We'll be sure not to disappoint," I smile.

Five minutes after we pay for our gear and arrange for the delivery of Garrus' armor and my old holster, Xern sets us up for the commercial. A video drone's hovering in front of us while we stand against the shop's sign in the window. Garrus has his armor on and a Mantis hanging loosely in his arms, trying to look strong and charismatic. I'm still in my casuals, but sporting a display version of the upcoming civilian model Widow, which is thankfully half the weight. We get more than a few looks from curious pedestrians, but no one seems to pay us much heed. Not like we grabbed a huge amount of attention when we sported full loadouts.

"You boys ready?" Xern asks, double checking the floating camera.

"As we'll ever be," Garrus groans. "How did I let you talk me into this?"

I nudge him in the ribs. "Because it saved you five hundred credits. Besides, it's not like we live here. The chance of people we know finding this and giving us crap for it is nearly zero."

"My sister sees this, and it's your ass."

"Camera's rolling!" the owners shouts. "You're on in four, three, two..."

Garrus and I put on our best fake smiles as Xern signals we're on. "If you've seen any news in the last two years, you know who myself and my human friend are," Vakarian starts, ending his first line.

"If you haven't, I'm Aaron Shepard, the first human Spectre," I say through the horrible TV grin. "This is Garrus Vakarian, my weapons expert and the best damn sniper I've ever seen, not counting myself."

Garrus looks over and blatantly hits my shoulder as a fake joking gesture, though it still hurts. "We have still yet to settle that. Now, are you having problems with pesky Eclipse mercenaries trying to get control of the alleys behind your business?"

"How about Blood Pack krogan and their little pet varren wanting some gambling debt you simply don't remember having?"

"Or do the Blue Suns have the audacity to be asking you for protection money?"

We step to the either side and gesture to the sign in the window behind us. "Then come on over to _Xern's Weapons and Armaments_," we say in sync, "the best weapons and armor in the whole cluster."

"Every piece of equipment for every situation is on sale here," I continue. "Beautifully powerful sniper rifles like the one I have, and armor stronger than a tank, such as my scarred friend is wearing."

"Small arms, self-defense weapons, and even large knives are here for anyone. Perfect for making sure that everyone knows that you are not to be trifled with. If you need anything that can end or save a life, like the ones I use to save this man on a daily basis, you can find it here at astonishingly low prices," Garrus says with a smirk in the corner of his mouth.

I shrug it off. "And the best part is, an unconditional warranty is included with every purchase, direct from Xern himself and at no extra charge. So get over here, buy a weapon, and kill something!"

Garrus and I come back together for the closing line. "Remember, if Xern didn't sell it to you, your foe has a bigger one."

The owner taps a few buttons on the camera, closing the lens and pulling it into his chest. "Beautiful, gentlemen," he says with no small amount of pleasure. "I'll throw in a few edits to make it grab some attention, and it'll be up by this evening."

Garrus reaches him first. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you," he smiles and gives him a shake. "Now, I'm going to change and enjoy the rest of my leave."

Vakarian retreats off to the store to get back into his civies. Xern tries to follow, but I stop him with a hand to the chest. "Could you do me a favor? Send me a copy of that video. I have a feeling the rest of the crew would love to see this."

"Not a problem," he chuckles. "Our little secret?"

"Oh, not for long."

* * *

My favorite scarred Turian meets up with me again outside ten minutes later. "Now I can cross 'Be in a horrible commercial' off of my bucket list," Garrus smiles, patting my shoulder.

"Bitch all you want; you had fun being an idiot."

He laughs. "Maybe a little. But that still better not reach my family."

I raise my hands innocently. "Scout's honor, I promise. Besides, I don't even know their email address. Though EDI would be more than happy to find it for me."

"It's a good thing I like you; no one else could get away with half the crap you do," he says with a joking grin. "Let's see what else the ma-"

He's cut off by the sound of a loud mechanical roaring, thunderous enough to feel in my chest and getting closer. Tires screech at the end of the block, sending me against the wall with Predator drawn. A flame red blur screams past us, a foot at the most from clipping Garrus' back. He jumps and draws his own pistol, but it rounds the next corner and is gone before either of us can get a bead on it. Even with the source gone, not-so-distant rumbling crashes into my ears. The blur comes back, much slower this time, but still too fast to see details. It's not until it stops in front of us that I realize it's a motorcycle, two people riding on the leather seat. And the driver is none other than...

"Zaeed, you're lucky I didn't shoot your ass!" I shout when the merc dismounts his ride.

"I told him to slow down when we saw you," Chakwas chastises him, climbing off the back. She must've been hanging on pretty damn tight with the way that psycho was driving.

Zaeed just waves a hand at us while Garrus and I holster the pistols. "Oh, don't get your panties in a twist. I could've been going a lot faster."

"You still clipped the back of my fringe," Vakarian grumbles.

He shrugs. "Semantics. If I'd been trying to hit you, you'd be goddamn roadkill by now."

Blowing a silent sigh through my nose, I give the pair and their new mode of transportation a good examination. The merc looks like an Earth biker, the real 1% criminals from way back when. Dark jeans with tears and frays probably old crashes, ratty gray t-shirt, silver mirrored sunglasses, black boots, and a leather vest with a Grim Reaper on the back. It's got a shotgun instead of a scythe in its hands, the words, "Just here for the pay," sprawled across a white banner in old English lettering. Gotta say, it's actually a pretty good look for him. He's always seemed like he's from another time and place.

Chakwas makes me laugh a bit under my breath. The woman is literally in a dress. An actual sundress with faded purple and white patterns that makes it look like water's waving across the surface of it. She's also got strap-on sandals on that belong more in a park for a picnic than a mall. Her hair's a bit of a mess from Speed Demon's driving, but it doesn't do anything to run the old medic's beauty. The two of them standing side-by-side... Swap Zaeed's bike for an old hot rod, and I'd swear I was living in an outtake from _Grease._

Now, the bike: that's a thing of beauty. I bend down over the side, trying to believe my own eyes. It doesn't look like anything made in the last century. The frame itself reminds me of an old Harley Davidson from the 20th, built thick and tough. The handlebars aren't ridiculously high, instead having them right in front of the gas tank with just enough raise for the rider to sit upright. There's no abundance of curves or lines that the later models did, opting for the more classic feel. It even has an actual gas engine, which explains the thunderous roaring when Zaeed opened up the throttle. And the amazing flame red and deep blue paint job just completes the image. Damn, what a bike.

"Where did you get this?" I ask, looking over for any signs that it might actually be as old as I think.

"I had a job here about eight years ago, tracking down some rich punk who was dipping his wick in the wrong man's daughter," he says like it's the weather he's talking about. "Ran into a mechanic who shared my love for classic rides. Couple of local thugs tried to rough him up, I sent 'em home tail between their legs. This girl was nothing but a frame at the time, but I could see what she was gonna be. So I told him that kicking out the little shits was on the house, but when he finally got this girl finished, I got to borrow her for a day. He said yes, and now I'm taking him up on the offer."

Garrus nods. "Not a bad trade. Definitely a hell of a ride."

Zaeed steps up to the Turian like he just insulted his mother. "This bike isn't 'a hell of a ride.' She's a goddamned piece of art, worth more than the bounty on your head back on Omega. Pierre built her from scratch, took him seven years to get all the parts and modify her to perfection. The Mona Lisa ain't got shit on this bike."

"Alright, alright," Garrus says, backing up. "Sorry I said anything."

Chakwas puts a hand on Zaeed's shoulder and pulls him back. "Will you behave yourself? He didn't know any better."

The doc's magic cools the merc down a bit, his arms falling back to his side and the pissed-off look fading from his face. "Fine."

That last part catches me off-guard a bit. Not his short fuse, but the backing down that fast. Even when we were relaxing with a few drinks, he'd stay pissed for a good five minutes before coming back to the reality... Is Chakwas making him like that? "So why did you steal our medical officer, Massani?" I ask, trying to put the pieces together.

"Zaeed invited me to lunch," the doc smiles. "He's the only human on the ship my age, and he's great for a few stories."

Massani taps the back of his hand to her hip. "There ain't a lot of girls who've seen as much shit as you, and you're the only one who seems to like me."

She laughs. "Oh, I have a hard time believing that. Scars to show your strength, a subtle aura that promises an adventure around every turn, and the hint of danger for good measure. I don't see how anyone could be immune to that."

"You sure you ain't just fond of my tattoos?"

"Well, they certainly don't hurt the image." Her lips meet his cheek for a brief second, which makes my heart skip a few beats.

"How about we go grab that lunch, see the sights?" he smiles softly. "Then we'll decide what to do with the rest of the day."

She hops on the back of the bike, patting the seat in front of her. "What are you waiting for?"

"See you boys later," Zaeed says while already in mid-run. He slams into his spot behind the handle bars, revs the engine, and takes off. Through the smell of burnt rubber and thick smoke, I can hear Chakwas squealing with little-girl delight.

Garrus and I look at each other for a few seconds, the same confused look plastered to our faces.

"You saw that too, right?" he asks first.

"Yeah..." I mutter. "I walked in on my parents mid-penetration as a kid. Kinda got the same feeling right now."

"At least at their age, they don't have to worry about pregnancy."

"True. I'm just trying to not get a mental image of those two in a hotel. Or on the med bay exam bed."

He breathes out a slow shudder. "... Thank you for driving that horrible nightmare into my brain."

"You're welcome."

* * *

Credit for Xern: I got the idea for his looks and name from a deviation on DeviantArt. The author is Meken, and the picture's title is Xern sketch. It's a very good piece, and she does phenomenal OC turians.

Also, the armor I described for Garrus is supposed to be the kind he wears in ME3. Just for reference, in case it isn't abundantly clear.


	6. Random Conversations

'Ello minions and minionettes. Your master is speaking in his fake British accent because he needs a source of entertainment. There are a few things I would like to address to you guys. Nothing too big: just a public service announcement and a question regarding future stories.

First, there's a new forum out there you shall probably take note of: The Talimancing Legion. It's not dedicated to me, relax. (When I saw the name, I asked about that too. I was a little worried.) It's dedicated to getting every Tali lover and Tali piece under one place, letting us converse about our favorite and beloved Quarian. Here's a link to it. Spread the word! myforums/ArchReaperN7/4279398/

Second is a bit more on the interesting side. Don't worry, I'm still planning on doing my Wedding piece and the one two years after the wedding. However, I've got the idea for two more interesting fanfics in my head, and neither of them want to go away. I'm debating between a) a bunch of one-shots from Garrus' perspective with a vanguard FemShep named Riley Shepard that he progressively falls for. I'm not entirely sure what I'd do with that, or even take it to the extent that I mentioned. Just an idea in my head.

B is the interesting one: I'd like to do a novelization of Dishonored from Corvo's eyes (The game that came out in October of last year. Steampunk with a touch of supernatural in Bioshock meets Fallout with a lot of stealth and variety. Look it up: great game.) I want to give him thoughts, words, more actions to make him more of a character instead of the blank slate he was. Think it'd be chapter, chapter and a half for each mission, half a chapter for the boat rides with Samuel, another chapter-ish at the Hound Pits in between. I've got about five pages of a first chapter in a real rough draft, and it's an idea I really like. I can clean it up and post it, if anyone wants to see.

Anyway, continue enjoying my stories, por favor. (yes, I just said Spanish in a fake British accent.) PM me with your thoughts about these fanfic ideas. Run rampant and amok, my minions. I'll be back for you soon. And apologies for the delay. My schedule keeps changing on a daily basis.

* * *

"So this is what civilians do with their spare time?" Garrus grumbles/questions ten minutes into the mall.

Admittedly, I'm having the same thoughts. Small shops line the left and right of the open main street, isolated and separated like apartments. However, the lack of roof overhead bothers me a bit. Each store has its own shelter from the elements, but none out here. No idea why. The displays in the front windows attempt to invite us without success. Everything's tailored towards the younger base that doesn't mind losing all of their money on some useless brand name. My eyes just wander up towards the edges of the buildings, watching for the distinct glitter of a sniper's scope. "I don't get it either. Maybe it's just a break from the usual."

He shrugs. "How do you figure?"

"Think about people with normal lives. Get up, go to school or work, mindlessly do whatever they're told by someone who really doesn't give a crap, go back home, prepare to do the same the next day. Here, all of a sudden, they're the center of attention. Every store is begging for them to come in and pay some heed to their merchandise. Maybe it's that feeling of having other people pay attention to you. It can't be for the prices."

"Not a bad theory," he acknowledges with a slight gesture to all the stores around. "Makes me glad I got out of civilian life: I'd shoot myself if I ever spent more than a few hours here."

"That makes two of us. Though I suppose it's a good place to try and get my head wrapped around the whole 'shore leave' concept. I'm still in firefight mode, watching for snipers or a well-placed ambush."

"I'm glad it's not just me. Think we spend too much time getting shot at."

"Amen."

We both chuckle a little, more out of boredom than anything else. Neither of us break stride and press on to the gym, way on the other side of the mall.

"So, I've got a kinda random question I've been meaning to ask," I say. Since the stores aren't exactly drawing our attention, might as well drum up a conversation.

He pops his neck by placing his hand on his chin and pushing hard left. "I'll see if I can't give you an answer."

"What is the deal with you and that visor?"

Apparently the question's pretty funny, because he starts laughing. "What? So I'm attached to it. You don't see me picking on you about that recon hood or Widow."

I shake my head. "The difference is, I put those in my locker at night. Don't get me wrong: I would love to have your visor. But you sleep with the damn thing."

"It's a pain to get off. Besides, it's useful. I can check my email, play music, anything an omni-tool can do without even lifting a finger."

"Gotta give me more than that, Vakarian," I press. "You remember the files from the Shadow Broker base. You've put so many little mods on that thing, it's well beyond convenience. Come on, what's the story?"

He sighs under his breath, almost soft enough to be hidden in the ambient noise of ads and chatter. Still smiling, he points to the little purple accessory. "It's, uh... My father gave it to me. This was his gift when I passed the entrance exam into C-Sec. Not nearly as modified as it is now, but still good."

"Wow," I mutter with a raised eyebrow. "Wasn't expecting that."

"This was back when we got along. The brass were still deciding whether to stick me in as a beat cop on the fast track for detective or hostage-situation sniper. So he got me this for whichever way I went. It checked the records of anyone I looked at for more than a few seconds and could tell me the owner of a weapon or vehicle in ten if I became a detective. If I was a sharp shooter, it looked for weaknesses in barriers and structures, gave me maps of the area, optimal targets to aim for. Either way, it would make my job a lot easier," he explains.

"Explains why you started wearing it all the time. So how did it become every moment of every day?"

He rubs the side of his neck, eyes staring off into the distance and looking for some kind of answer. "I don't know. Maybe it... makes me think of my father from a better time, before things got bad between us. I can't part with it, even with updated models rolling out. Something always stops me from even thinking of replacing this one."

"You use it to remember those you really care about," I offer. "Your family, your squad on Omega, since you've etched their names into it. It's your way to make sure you don't forget them."

"Maybe," he says with a slight smile again. "If that's the reason, I'm gonna have to carve your name in there too."

"I think Tali might get a little upset about that one. She might start assuming something."

"You're not my type. Wrong hardware."

I actually bend over from laughter, trying to get some oxygen into my lungs. "Oh, Tinkerbell shall be very disappointed."

Garrus shrugs. "He'll get over it."

Even after covering four blocks, we've only scratched the surface of the the mall. Brightly decorated maps tell me the first ten percent of the stores is behind us. At least the conversation's keeping us entertained. "Since we're on the topic, and we've already covered mine..." I continue. "How's your sex life?"

That question gets the best reaction of the day. He stops dead in his tracks and stares at me like a deer in the headlights. "Are you serious?"

"Eye for an eye. What's the matter, scared?" My chicken-like arm flaps only earns me more confusion.

"You randomly want to talk about how I do in bed and I'm the coward for not immediately giving you stories?"

"Yep. I'm not asking for details or stories. Just give me a basic idea. Come on. For your best friend?" I put on a fake puppy-dog face in an attempt to get an answer.

He grumbles a bit to himself, trying to figure out his next sentence. "Fine. But you owe me lunch for this. Where do you want me to start?"

Resisting the urge to have a joking grin is too much to pass up. "Eh, how about the here and now. When's the last time you tangoed?"

"Damn it, you like messing with me too much..." he mutters, starting to walk again with me right at his side. "Alright. That last time I slept with anyone was right before I met up you to catch Saren. Haven't found anyone that's tempted me since then."

I let out a small grunt in surprise. "Longer than I expected. Figured you would've hooked up with someone back on Omega, if only for a little while."

He shakes his head. "Didn't happen. I almost took a pass at Meirin, the only other Turian on my team, but things didn't fall into place soon enough."

"If you don't mind me asking, why not? I mean, if you let her in your squad, you trusted her."

"I like to get to know someone before climbing into bed with them. I... It's strange to explain. The relationship doesn't have to be serious, but we need to at least be good friends first." He chuckles under his breath with a bit of a smile. "Honestly, I like 'friends with benefits' or whatever humans call it. There's not a lot of pressure, you get a feel for who you're about to be feeling up, and it's easier to maintain than one that's romantic."

I pat him on the shoulder. "Hey, if it works for you. As long as no psycho exes result from it."

"Haven't had any of those yet, thankfully," he laughs. "But it does make things awkward when I meet them again after a break. I'm never sure if I should try to continue the relationship or call it quits. Most of the time, I follow her lead. I won't complain if it ends up at her place."

"I don't think there's a single man that would. Unless, you know, you're taken."

That last joke begets a small smile from the Turian. "That's never been an issue. So am I going to have to start going into numbers now, or am I free from this torture?"

"Not quite. Give me a round figure, and we'll move on," I grin.

He sighs, but with more of a smile than when he started. "Alright, let me count... Eight women, no one-night stands. The only time I didn't have an established relationship with her was the recon scout I told you about. Dinara was actually one of my longer relationships. We ended up together for a year before deployments split us up. If you want more details than that, you're gonna have to get a few drinks in me."

"I'm stopping, don't worry," I laugh. "Don't want any mental images of you biting some girl's neck while you're inside and she's arching her back."

"Who says we bite during penetration? It strictly foreplay for me," he grins.

I almost gag at the image that forever burns itself into my brain. "You're a sick bastard, you know that?"

"If you don't want me to take the shot, don't give me the ammo."

At this point, we've finally made it a quarter of the way through the complex. Not one of the stores has captured our attention for even a moment: we're too wrapped up talking, which is a pleasant surprise. Better than staring at expensive baubles all day. Tali and I'll probably end up going through here for actual shopping later, just to relax without any near-death experiences. Or we might just sit down in the food court for a while, watch the cars overhead. I don't know yet.

"I guess it's my turn to ask you a question, huh?" Garrus says while looking around aimlessly.

I shrug. "If you've got one."

"How are things with you and Tali?"

I pull a 90 degree spin on my right foot, only to see him backing up with hands raised in innocence. "Relax," he continues. "She hasn't told me you're having issues, and I'm not saying it looks like you two are on the rocks. I'm curious, that's all."

I back off and return to my usual walk. "Sorry; the way you said that made me panic for a second. I wasn't about to hit you."

"I know. But I also know that you can do more damage out of reflex than most can do with three years' worth of planning. Not going to take the chance of being on the receiving end."

"Fair enough," I chuckle. "Got any questions in particular?"

He taps his fingers against his side in debate. "How's it going, I guess? Is it better or worse than other relationships, feel unnatural or really easy, what do you think about it?"

I let my own thoughts run around for a few heartbeats, trying to figure out what to say. "It's... nice, to say the least. Different in a lot of respects, but good different. It feels good."

"What do you mean by different?"

"Well, her being a Quarian makes things interesting. Having to check her food, keeping the room sterile, little things like that don't bother me. But not being able to kiss her is the only thing that still throws me for a loop. Downside: waiting for a chance to feel her skin or lips is Hell. Upside: when we do get her out of that suit, kissing alone is Heaven on Earth. Then the completely different cultures keeps us on our toes. Keep having to explain the little phrases we take for granted, you know?"

Garrus nods. "C-Sec gets a little of every species in our group. We had a task force for a month to catch a mole in the embassies. Since we thought it was one of the asari, they helped us decrypt the messages and try to figure out the pattern for the intel drops. I spent more time playing translator than helping."

"We're not quite that bad, but we do have our moments of miscommunication," I explain with a quiet laugh. "But I don't know. Even if you don't count the species thing, there's just something about this that feels different... Peaceful is the best description I can think of. I like it."

He smiles. "Good for you. Nice to see you happy."

"She does make me very happy. In a lot of ways I don't think I've ever felt."

"You sound like you're in love with her."

I shrug and keep walking. For some reason, I've having trouble coming up with an answer.

Garrus takes care of that one for me. "You are, aren't you." It might be a question, but it certainly doesn't sound like one.

"Don't know," I mutter. "Never loved someone before."

"Yeah, you love her. You just don't know it yet."

"What makes you an expert on relationships? Have you been reading those romance novels again?" I joke.

He shakes his head. "I spent six years in C-Sec. I've seen couples when they're engaged, married, divorced, and everything in between. All of the ones who are really in love have a very distinct look in their eye, like there's a shard of broken glass in there, bouncing light off it. You've had that for a while now. All you did was confirm my suspicions."

I bite the edge of my tongue, a bad habit I thought I broke years ago. It still happens when someone hits a touchy subject. "I guess we'll see, huh? I'll tell you what: if I decide I love Tali and I go to tell her, I'll make sure you're right there beside us to yell, 'Called it!' Fair enough?" My trademark sarcasm manages to cut through again, which lightens the mood.

"I suppose I can live with that," he laughs. "But I'll bring a camera to document the historic moment when Commander Aaron Shepard was unsure of himself and Garrus Vakarian knew exactly what was going to happen."

We've reached the center of the mall now, a town-square-esque hub buzzing with activity. There's more people here than I've seen all day, but the number is still only fifty-ish. Must be a school day or something, because the amount of teenagers here is almost negligible. Suppose it's better than showing up on Black Friday.

"Mind if I ask one more serious question?" Garrus asks, side stepping around an impatient and oblivious volus that tries to plow through him. Friendly.

"Go for it. I get the next one, though."

He chuckles a bit. "That's fair. Sidonis."

I shrug. "What about him?"

"Why didn't you let me kill him?" he mutters softly.

My right eyebrow goes up in reflex. "Out of all the people we've spared, people we probably should've killed, he bothers you?"

"It's not what you think," he explains. "I'm not questioning you, and I'm not saying I should've killed him. I want to know your reasons why."

A slight pain and the taste the blood fill my mouth. Guess I'm biting harder than usual. Not a big surprise, given the subject. "Up until we were in the car waiting for him to show up, I was going to let you take him out. And Hell, I probably would've taken the shot myself. But I couldn't let you kill him."

"And why's that?"

"... Because I was worried about you, Garrus."

He comes to a full stop, looking at me with confusion. "Worried? About me?"

I blow some air through my nose, trying to find the words. Any kind of revelation like this is rare for me, to say the least. I like to keep the worrying thoughts to myself; the crew doesn't need the same weight on their shoulders. The only time I ever say exactly what I'm thinking is when it's necessary. "I saw what you were becoming. The man holding the rifle that day, the man ready to take that shot, was not you. I wasn't about to let him replace you."

"What are you talking about?" he asks while closing the gap between us. "I'm not some monster that wants to kill everything in sight."

"Now you're not. But the entire time we were trying to track Sidonis down, you weren't yourself. You were ready to blow an unarmed prisoner's kneecaps off after you got done beating the daylights out of him. That's not Garrus Vakarian," I say sternly.

He shakes his head at me. "Harkin was scum, you know that."

"It doesn't matter." I step right up to him and press a hard finger onto his chest. "I know you. I know your morals. I know what you would do with that piece of trash. You'd hit him once or twice, stick him in the back of the car, and wrap him up like a Christmas present for C-Sec. Now you tell me with complete honesty that's what you wanted to do when we had him."

The look on his face is anger, mixed with a lot of confusion and thought. But after a few seconds, he sighs in surrender without breaking eye contact. "No. I wanted him to suffer first."

"That's my point. The man who joined me to take down Saren and grew to believe in true justice wouldn't have those thoughts. And yet, I had to stop you. You see where I'm going with this?"

He purses his lips a bit. "Not exactly."

I huff under my breath. "I would've let Garrus Vakarian take that shot on Sidonis, because Garrus Vakarian would know that it was a one-time thing. There was no way to get him on the murder of your team, so that would be the only way to get any kind of justice for them. But the thing that you were becoming wasn't going to think like that. He was just going to assume that revenge and murder were how you fix everything. Making you spare Sidonis, making you see that blowing his brains out wasn't going to change a thing, was how I killed that monster. I wasn't about to lose my best friend to his own anger."

He lets it all soak in for a minute, trying to wrap his head around everything with that pondering look on his face. Finally, after a dozen people circle around the strange roadblock in the middle of their corridor, he dips his head down. "Sidnois... changed me more than anything else on Omega. And not the way it should have," he admits softly.

I pat his shoulder. "I'm not blaming you. But I couldn't let you become that thing."

His hand reaches up and squeezes mine. "Thanks, Shepard."

"We may not be related, but you're family, Garrus. Keep me in line, and we'll call it even."

He chuckles under his breath. "I can do that. As long as you're not trying to use your Widow; there's no way I'm getting in front of that."

"I'd only drop your shields," I joke. "Payback for that last time."

"I could've shot one of your fingers off. You'd still have nine of them left."

His arms go around my chest in a surprisingly kind hug. He doesn't lay his head against me or anything like that, but there's a fair bit of emotion in it. "Thank you, Aaron," he mutters while tightening his grip.

Call me sappy, but I can't resist returning the gesture. "You're welcome. Question answered?"

He nods. "And then some… We should probably let go."

"Yeah, probably," I say, releasing my grip and backing up immediately. We've gained a few looks from the rest of the shoppers, but nothing too bad.

"I won't tell anyone about this if you won't," he whispers.

"Deal. Let's keep walking."

Surprisingly, there's no real awkwardness between us once we've put some distance from the hub. More like a closeness to the Turian at my side. I don't know. I've considered Garrus my best friend for a while now; I suppose this conversation shouldn't have been a big surprise.

"Your question," Vakarian says.

A shinier than usual sign catches my eye for a brief second, distracting me for a heartbeat. "That it is. So... how's your family?"

"It's pretty rough at the moment. Worse than usual," he admits.

"How so?"

He sighs. "Mom finally passed away last month. It's wearing on all of us."

Oh, shit. "Sorry. I didn't know."

"It's alright, don't worry. We knew it was coming sooner or later. I wish I could've made it to her funeral, though. That was when you were trying to track down the defective mechs," he mutters solemnly.

I look at him with a bit of sorrow and confusion. "We could've made the stop. Hell, I would've went with you."

He shakes his head. "And what, let those mechs keep self-destructing and killing people? Besides, I couldn't go. I'd have to explain everything to Solana and my father. Where I've been, the scars, why I didn't call."

"That doesn't matter. They're blood, Garrus. Whether or not they approve, they understand you're doing good work. Hiding from them is about the biggest mistake you can ever make." I know he's got his reasons, but I can't help but get somewhat angry. "I would give anything to have my family back. Don't waste yours."

"I know, I know," he admits softly. "I... I should go home after this. When you're done with your favor for Hackett, I'll face the music. Explain everything, apologize for all of it."

I pat him on the back. "As soon as Hackett's happy, I'm dropping you off on Palaven, right on your family's front porch. But before you just show up there, give them a call today. Let them know you're coming, that you're trying to fix it. You'll be surprised how much Solana and your dad like that."

"I will. Not sure what I'll say, though."

I snap my fingers, getting him to look up at me. His eyes meet mine, and I try to do my best stern-but-well-meaning father voice. "When you call, tell them you're sorry for ignoring them all this time. Come up with a date and time, ask them if you can come home then and explain everything that's happened. Make sure it's clear that you're waiting for their approval before doing anything and you'll be home to apologize. When you get there, show up dressed fairly well, your bags still in the car. You sit down with them immediately and tell them all of it, apologizing for every mistake along the way. It won't fix everything, but it'll help."

He nods. "I'll try. Can't hurt, right?"

"Not really. I'd start with the scars, though. It might freak them out if you leave that mystery hanging in the air," I smirk.

"Good point," he chuckles. "You ever miss your family? You know, since we're on the subject."

At this point, my tongue's gone numb from the constant biting. I can still taste blood, but not a lot of pain. "Off and on, I guess. I don't have aching memories every day, but... when something reminds me of them, it does get rough."

"Ever have any nightmares about them?"

"Rarely, thankfully. They used to be real bad, but it's gotten better. I guess it's like an old scar that never quite heals. I doubt I'll ever be 100% fine with it."

He smiles softly at me. "I know. Even with the little time I got with Mom, I miss her a lot. And the same applies to my team on Omega: I don't think anyone ever truly gets over losing someone special to them."

"Your list is shorter than mine," I mutter through a faked grin.

"I don't know how you do it. I've seen a lot of people broken by any one of the things you've been through, let alone all of them. I can't figure out how you hold yourself together through that."

I shrug. "It's hard, especially when one of them's fresh. But at the same time, I think it's for the better, you know?"

He shakes his head. "Not really. Everything you've seen, I don't understand how that can be anything but wrong."

"There's an old human saying. Well, two of them. 'The greatest of warriors bear the deepest of scars,' that's one of my favorites. But the other is, 'The loneliest people are the kindest. The saddest smile the brightest. The most damaged are the wisest. And only the broken fight for others. All because they don't want anyone else to suffer they way they have.'" I chuckle a little to myself, though I've got no idea why. Maybe it's some defense mechanism in my brain. "Everything in your past shapes you. Your family, your friends, your pain, and your joy: they all form you into something. I can't help but think that if it wasn't for all of the Hell I've been through, without the raid on my home or Akuze or chasing Saren, I wouldn't be who I am now. I wouldn't be able to do the good we do, help all the lives we've saved. I guess if one suffering saves the dozen others, it's all worth it in the end."

Garrus nods slowly, understanding in his eye. "If you look at it like that, it makes sense."

"Yeah. Problem is, the view doesn't kick in for a while," I admit. "The wound has to heal some before you can see through the pain."

"But you can counter it with the thought of something good as a result. You probably wouldn't have joined the Alliance if it wasn't for the batarians. If you hadn't joined the Alliance, you never would've met Tali. Or me." He says that last bit with a small, friendly smirk. He's trying to show he knows and he gets it, but at the same time, he's trying to get me out of this dark thought process.

A semi-entertaining thought crosses my mind. "I'm not so sure my parents approve of you. Up in Heaven, they're probably scolding you for dragging their only son into every foxhole you can find."

"Like you couldn't find just as much trouble on your own," he laughs with a slug to my arm. "And how can they not love this face?"

"Depends on which side you're looking at. The bandage isn't exactly inviting."

Garrus proceeds to surprise me by making a hard right and beeline-ing for the trash can along the wall. Completely lacking grace, he rips the bandage off, pitches it, and comes back in one fluid motion. "To hell with it: Chakwas was supposed to take it off this morning, and I'm tired of taking crap for it," he explains when he gets close.

"Subtle as a boot to the face, Vakarian," I chuckle, looking over the newly exposed flesh. Considering half of it got blown off by a missile and left him on the verge of death, he looks pretty good. It doesn't look like the scales he has on the other side of his face; more like human skin, actually. The usual light gray/green is a rough pink now, but still too jagged to be mistaken for my skin except at a distance. The edges still have the original coloring, at least. It's still a big-ass scar: that's clear as day. However, it's healed nicely. "Not bad. Torn up enough to get some attention, but it's not ugly enough to scare people. You might get a date or two out of that thing."

He smiles with a nod. "Good. You have no idea how bad that bandage itches, especially when you've got to wear it for almost four months."

"Better than having your whole body destroyed, rebuilt, and then having to fight off mechs right when you wake up."

"I'll give you that one," he shrugs. "Still, I'm glad to have that thing off."

The signs of the mall have started to fade, signaling we're near the end. There's a few blocks left, but the majority of the experience is behind us. Eh. The gym's not far, and we're expected. It's not like they'll shoot us for getting there a little early.

"So, enjoying your shore leave?" I ask.

He chuckles. "It's a nice change of pace. And not having to wear armor all the time is a plus."

"Yeah, no kidding. That stuff's heavy after a while," I laugh.

"Don't forget how bad it smells if you don't clean it after each mission."

The memory of the stench alone makes me gag. "I don't know how Ash could put up with the locker smell down there. At least EDI and Rupert wash them now. I didn't mind cleaning mine, but I was bad about remembering."

He shakes his head. "I don't think Wrex ever brought his anywhere near disinfectant. I still maintain the theory that all of his kills were from the toxic fumes that seeped out of his armor."

"That's more than likely true." A memory knocks at my brain, and the organic control center deems it worthy of telling everyone. "The rachni certainly seemed to like it, though. He attracted more of those things than Tali and I did."

"I ever tell you I'm glad I didn't come along that day? Bugs, lawyers, and cold: the three things I hate with a passion," Vakarian chuckles.

I shake my head. "Once or twice. And those don't exactly rank in my top five, either. Still better than the creepers. Only had to focus on one or two of the roaches."

"We could've taken my advice and tried to bring the Mako down to the Thorian."

"I don't think it would fit down there."

"That's what she said." We both get a good laugh out of that one.

After a few seconds of silence, I rub the back of my neck. "I've never properly thanked you, Garrus."

He raises the Turian equivalent of an eyebrow. "For what?"

"For having my back whenever I need you, for signing on for a suicide mission because of me, for pulling my ass out of the fire more times then I can count." I stop and look at him for the last bit. "For giving me someone to talk to, someone to trust. Someone to call my best friend and a brother. I hope I've showed you how much I appreciate you over the years, but I need to say it. I couldn't have asked for a better friend and partner. Thank you, for everything."

He comes to a stop, maybe a foot between us. There's a soft smile on his face, one that's rare for him. Not the kind that's his usual sarcastic smirk. Rather, it's the kind that you see and you just know that he's sincere. I swear that the blues of his eyes are lit up with a joy that's indescribable. "You've shown me, don't worry. Thank you for all of the same, Aaron. And for teaching me the real difference between right and wrong. I'd be lying if I didn't say you were one of the most important people in my life."

"Same here," I say, giving him a one-armed bro-hug.

He returns the gesture immediately and adds a few pats to my back. "You're one of a kind. Even with all the Hell we've had to go through, I'm glad I was by your side for all of it."

"There's not a moment with you I regret, Vakarian," I say. I pat him back one good, hard time. "Even with your bad sense of humor. If you say 'Just like old times' or 'calibrations' one more time, I'm cramming your precious visor up your ass."

He laughs and lets go. "You're welcome to try. You'll get the chance when we get in the ring."

"I think we're already there."

Garrus looks to his left, seeing the large sign reading _Gym and Kickboxing: Come and Get Your Sorry Ass In Shape, _an arrow below that points to the corner building_._ "Looks like it," he chuckles. "Nyx hasn't changed a bit."

I laugh. "If this is how he greets people, I can't wait to meet him."

"He'll grow on you. Looks like our shopping trip forgot the shopping part," Garrus smirks out of the corner of his mouth, becoming his old self again.

I shrug. "Still a pretty good trip. Not what we expected, but being lost in conversation isn't a bad thing."

"Nope. Come on: you'll like Nyx."


	7. Blasts From The Past

I need to apologize to all of you minions. When marching season hit, it hit with the wrath of Zeus. I didn't even get to start on this chapter until less than two weeks ago, and that was sporadic at best. It's not over yet, so updates will still iffy, but I'll see what I can do about this. Again, sorry about all that. Believe me: not being able to write has been killing me as much as it has you guys. I shall leave you with one positive note, though. My best friend just got engaged and decided to make me the best man. The only reason this affects you all is it means I can finally go to a wedding for the first time in my life and figure out what's going on, which will help me write the wedding piece for Tali and Shepard. Yes, that is still on, if not stuck in transit of leaving my mind for the digital paper. No promises on the date of that, or even the next update, but remember I have not forgotten you. Blame band. ~MGA

* * *

The gym's about fifty-by-fifty yards, based on the view from the front windows. A main training room, filled with weights, treadmills, and machines, takes up a fair majority of the space. There's sections of open flooring for free work, most of them encompassing a large octagon ring in the back. Hard instrumental music plays over hidden speakers, quiet enough to be drowned out by a good pair of headphones but loud enough for anyone actually listening to it. The only real downside to all this is the sparring ring doesn't have a fence like the ones back in the 21st century, when MMA really took off. I reach all of these conclusions in the ten seconds it takes to walk past the windowed showcase and through the front door.

Just beyond the entrance, there's a waiting room and large desk at the end with a register for obvious purposes. An elder Turian sitting behind the counter looks up, smiling at his new arrivals. "Vakarian!" he laughs in a voice almost identical to Quiin's back on Noveria. "Good to see you. But damn, what happened to your face?"

Garrus chuckles. "Had a run-in with a Blue Suns gunship. Shepard took her down, she took off half of my face. You look good, Captain."

As the old man circles around the desk, I try to get a read on him. Pushing somewhere in his late fifties, the training shirt and sweats barely conceal his dense muscle. He's built thick with the body of a thirty-year-old, the only real indication of his age being the wear and tear on his face. His skin is a red-brown, with dark blue lines that run across each individual plate like crisscrosses and a head crest that's longer than I've ever seen. A dozen small scars cover his neck and temples in sizes that vary from "nicked shaving" to "machete wielding attacker." Definitely ex-military, probably hovered around ship commander level: no unwarranted pride that permeates the higher ranks. My kind of man.

He waves a dismissive hand when he gets close. "Drop the rank, I'm retired. Nyx works fine: my wife still calls me that." His gaze turns to me. "So this is the great Commander Shepard. You look taller in the vids."

"Shepard or Aaron works fine, depending on your preference," I say while offering a shake.

He takes it with a hearty grin. "I'll stick with Shepard: any man who's done as much as you warrants the respect. Septis Nyx, former Captain of Turian frigate Rapture. It's an honor to meet you."

"Don't worry, you'll land back on your feet soon: the reality is no match for the legend, I'm afraid," I confess.

"How's Galeus?" Garrus asks, nudging his way forward. "She still the heartbreaker I remember?"

"She's only gotten better. In looks, in bed, and in the ring," Nyx laughs.

Vakarian leans over to my ear. "His wife, Galeus, used to serve as his XO. She was the most attractive woman on the ship by a mile, so it was pretty common for the men to make a pass. Every time, she'd said she'd sleep with him if he could beat her in hand-to-hand. I never saw anyone come out of that match without anything less than four broken bones and two missing teeth."

I chuckle under my breath, both terrified and impressed. "Damn, I can't tell if I want to meet this woman or stay as far away as possible."

"There's never been a finer girl," the retired Captain smiles. "I got lucky when I found her. Let me show you boys the gym."

With the elder leading us, we walk across the non-slip flooring of the main room. It's not terribly busy right now, maybe twenty people working out at the moment. Most of the girls are gravitating towards the treadmills and bikes, while the guys dominate the free weights. Most of the free area in the back is divided into semi-separated cells for warm-ups and a set of bleachers to watch fights in the ring. A couple of these practice areas are taken, but the only details I can make out at this distance are species and rough gender guesses. Turians control the sparring areas, big surprise.

"This is only half of the building," Nyx explains. "There's a small shop we keep in the back. Clothes, equipment, the like for members in need of new gear. And we've got lockers and showers around the corner. Fair warning: since the asari are all one sex, they're allowed to wander in both bathrooms. Most of them stick to the girl's side, but a few prefer the men's. I think they like having the guys gawk. Let's them measure how well their training's working."

One of my eyebrows goes up. "That's news to me. They do that everywhere, or just Illium?"

"The less strict the location is, the more they pick and choose: it's more the culture than rules actually forbidding it. Illium's pretty lax about that sort of thing, so it's about 30/70," the old man explains.

Garrus shrugs. "I can think of worse things than seeing one of them in the showers."

Nyx shakes his head with a chuckle. "May I direct your attention to the sign above the door, Vakarian?"

At the entrances to the showers, there's a bright yellow warning plastered to the wall. _Any sounds of sex, Nyx storms in with flashbangs and a Matlock. Don't push your luck._

Both me and Garrus start laughing. "You really haven't changed," Garrus acknowledges, still smirking at the joke.

I finally get myself back under control. "Where did you guys meet? If you say a last-comic-standing convention, I'll start laughing again."

Nyx turns back around and leads us further in. "Vakarian was one of my men six years ago. He was my best tactician, so me and Galeus discussed plans of attack with him. We got to know each other pretty well in sixteen months. He's the reason half of my squad survived the batarian raid instead of just a quarter."

"That was Hell if there ever was one," Garrus nods. "They were dug in worse than the Torfan base the Alliance took out, with just as much firepower. We got lucky they weren't expecting us."

"We weren't lucky: you planned it right and got our men in before they knew what was happening. This man is the best squad leader under fire I've ever seen, Shepard." There's no small amount of pride in Nyx's voice as he compliments my friend. Maybe the Shadow Broker's files were right. Garrus would be some sort of famous by now if he wasn't overshadowed by me. That's a real shame.

I push the thoughts aside for another day. "He's proved that a couple of times, especially in the Base last week. So let's cut to the chase. Tell me I get to spar in that ring."

"Only if you ask nicely," the older man chuckles. "Not a problem. I'm sure at least one of the guys here would love an exhibition with the great Commander Shepard."

"Make it a couple. I haven't had a good hand-to-hand partner in months. Jacob's got no sense of movement, and he can't kick to save his life."

Nyx smiles. "I'm sure we can work something out."

"GARRUS!" a loud, female voice calls out from the warm-up area. I look to the right and see a Turian running this way, obviously the source.

"Oh, Spirits..." Garrus mutters, freezing in place by my side.

She's about Vakarian's age, if I had to guess. Not nearly as thick as Nyx, but definitely has some military muscle. Her olive drab sweat pants and tan training shirt don't hurt her figure much, if at all. Even though her breasts are a bit small for a Turian woman, she's got enough curves to be attractive to most every man. Her complexion is much more white than other Turians I've seen, with light purple hashes for clan markings and almost-hazel eyes that betray a cunning intelligence. Overall, I see her being some kind of calendar model for the military boys when they ship out, someone to gawk at and go, "damn, what I wouldn't give to wrestle with her."

Garrus is still stiff as a board when she stops in front of us with sweat barely accumulating on her fringe. "And I thought I looked bad old," she laughs, breathing heavily. Her voice has the usual Turian dual-tone thing, but it's a few steps higher in pitch. The phrase "female, not feminine" comes to mind.

I offer her a handshake. "Morning-slash-afternoon. Aaron Shepard, stick with Aaron, please. I'm going to assume you know my weapons expert, since he just pissed himself."

She accepts the hand. "Pleasure, Aaron. I'll try to forget the Spectre status. Lieutenant Dinara Kurril, recon specialist and Dinara's fine with me. The pole up my ass isn't nearly as high up as Nyx's."

While the butt of the joke laughs, she straightens up with oxygen back in her lungs. "Yeah, Vakarian and I go back. We both served under Nyx during the batarian raid, which I'm sure he's already told you about. He can't go ten minutes without mentioning it."

A light clicks on in my brain, and the words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. "You're the scout he told me about."

"What did you tell him exactly?" she asks Garrus, locking eyes with him and her left mandible twitching in a smirk. The only response he can muster is a soft squeak of terror.

Better save him, especially since I was the one who threw him under the bus. "He said you kicked his ass in the ring once upon a time. For nine rounds, you wore him out. No true victor, though."

She looks at me for a few heartbeats, trying to get a read on whether or not I'm lying. After a few tense seconds, she shrugs. "Actually, it was ten rounds if you count the tie breaker. I ended up on top." Her smile all but confirms the conclusion I reached earlier. Every ounce of will power in my body goes into controlling my laughter.

"Vakarian, quit standing there like a dumbass and say something," Nyx orders.

The captain's shout finally snaps him out of it. He shakes his head for a second, getting the deer-in-the-headlights look out of his eyes. "Did-didn't expect to run into you, Dinara," he stutters out. "What are you doing here?"

She leans back a bit, the sound of spine and joints popping over the music. "My brother got married yesterday two ports over. I still have a week of leave left and I knew Nyx was somewhere around here, so I shot him a message. He made me promise I'd swing by and visit for a while. I had no idea the great Garrus Vakarian and Commander Shepard would be stopping by."

"We didn't know until a few hours ago ourselves," Garrus says, finally gaining control of his nerves. "I wish Nyx would've warned me you were here. I would've brought you something."

"Hey, you give me that rematch you owe me, we'll call it even," she smiles. I wonder if she's thinking about a tie breaker too.

He nods. "Deal. But I'll need some time to warm up, get used to fighting without armor again. Give me some sweats, wraps, and a few people to practice on."

"I've got an idea," I offer. "Nyx and Dinara round up a few guys for us to warm-up on. Garrus dances with one innocent victim and Dinara, I get two sacrifices to practice on. Then Garrus and I go a round to see who's really the best."

Everyone gets the same grin on their faces, the one that happens when a bad idea starts to sound like fun. "I'm game," Dinara chimes in.

"Sounds like a plan," Vakarian answers.

"I know just who to stick in the ring with you boys," Nyx says. "Give me half an hour to round them up."

I clap my hands. "Then onward to the store! We're gonna need some sweats."

Fifteen minutes and forty credits later, I've got everything. They had some 120" fabric boxing wraps in dark blue I bought immediately, along with a black muscle shirt, dark green sweat pants, and a pair of underwear so I won't be walking around in sweaty boxer-briefs all day. (Thankfully, the showers come with soap and towels, so I can clean up before lunch.) Dinara insists on buying all of Garrus' stuff for him, so he does his best to avoid buying anything unnecessary. He settles on a white tank top, blue training pants, and boxer's tape for his hands.

While Nyx is off recruiting victims, the three of us set the basic rules for what's going to happen in the ring. We're going until submission or knock out, preferring the former over the latter. Anything besides hits to the crotch are fair game, as long as they don't leave anything besides a bruise. We stop if we feel something go wrong in the body or if the submission's about to break something. Apart from that, the only thing we're gonna try to remember is this is purely for fun: no bets are going on this, no reputation, no titles or trophies. It's just a group of friends and random pedestrians rolling around on the mats. Dinara leaves to inform Nyx of the rules while Garrus and I change in the locker rooms.

By the time we come out in our new attire, the others are back with a volunteer. He's a thin Salarian, lots of definition on his exposed arms and concave chest. Probably a speed fighter who'll go for lots of fast strikes, try to end things with some kind of standing up submission. "This will be Garrus' tribute," Nyx says while patting him on the shoulder. "I've got an idea for Aaron's other two, but I found Mae'ells first. Everyone can warm-up on the bags until someone's ready for the ring. Sound good?"

Garrus nods. "Works for me. I assume Dinara will be hovering over my shoulder the entire time, chastising me for my lack of practice."

"Someone's got to. That reach of yours alone won't save you against Mae," she chuckles.

"You guys have fun with that," I say while stepping out of the group. "I'm better on my own for bag work."

And with that, we split into three sets: Nyx heads back out to the main floor, Garrus' trio goes for the cell on the left side of the ring, I go right. The corner farthest from the rest of the gym gains my attention. The floor's got an inch or so of padding for falls, there's a good heavy bag hanging from the ceiling, and no one can really see me. Perfect. I bring up my omni-tool's music player, tapping into my cochlear implant that's supposed to be reserved for comms in the field. The program I wrote to get around that particular firewall still works fine, which lets _Dark That Follows_ drown out the ambient noise. I close my eyes for a few seconds to let the song start to take over. The constant drum beat kills off the thoughts of my previous life, focusing my brain on the task at hand. My bare feet jog around my cell on their own accord to get the muscles loose again.

For the next ten minutes, I swap between a dozen warm-ups while the music plays. Shadow boxing is orchestrated by _Beyond the Stars, _clap push-ups get _There and Back Again, _stretches and rising kicks are fueled by _Not Strong Enough._ I forgot how much some real hand-to-hand got my blood pumping. Back when I was a kid, sparring night at the dojo was my end-of-the-week reward. The younger kids would come up to learn from the 14-year-old 2nd degree black belt that had the reputation for head kicks and ridiculous dodges. The teenagers and few adults around my level would see if they could find away around my guard, with a low degree of success. Then Kwan Jang Nim would come around, strap on his big boxing gloves and knock the crap out of me for a few rounds. Every time I thought I had a bead on a way to get through his adaptability, every time I thought I had a chance, I'd end up ass-first on the ground. That man could move like no other, still the best teacher I've ever had.

I move on to the bag, aching to feel something react to my hits. The canvas covering on it reminds me of the ones from the classic movies, a welcome bit of nostalgia. I find a good stance, with my left foot in front, right heel back, in line, and foot angled eighty degrees to the side. My shoulders slump forward an inch as the muscle memory starts to kick in. The guard comes up next, my wrapped knuckles at jaw height and jab leading. _Blow Me Away Feat. Valora _kicks in with the first right body shot. Thick sand simulates the feeling of hitting organs, bringing a familiar pain to the front knuckles. A hard left hook to the jaw, knee to the ribs, two elbows at the collarbone, four quick pounds in the body again, another hook, shin kick to the right inner-thigh, right foot slamming through face, and the target's down. I back up a step, find my stance again, and fire away another random set of strikes. The only constant I keep in each set is the head kick, but not in the same position of the flow. If you fall into a pattern, your target learns how to counter. Keeping him confused is the best way to take him out.

After a few more boxing-oriented sets, I settle into a narrower stance with my right foot leading for kick barrages. Hard side kicks come back to memory and slam into the tango's ribs, _Not Without a Fight _screaming in my ears_._ The bag swings back, then comes around for more. Just before it gets within striking distance, I hit again with a much shorter side kick. The perfect way to stop a charging Tango: connect good and hard in the sternum. I throw in a few roundhouses, leg strikes, heel kicks, and fake-front-rounds for good measure. That takes care of the right side. Left side gets the same treatment with _Cry For Help._

I back away from the bag and bend over for a few stretches. I could work on a few more of my dodges and submissions, but doing that on my own is pretty much impossible. Eh. The muscles in my legs are extremely happy for the relaxation, more accustomed to sprinting to cover than knocking out teeth. A few rising kicks help with the stiffness while giving me a chance to catch my breath.

"You still prefer to kick heads, I see," a Drell says two feet behind me, barely audible over the music.

I turn off the beat in my ears and face the voice. Yep, definitely a Drell, definitely the one I thought he was. His skin's a little less blue than Kolyat's with at least three more decades of time on his face than the young son. The irises of his eyes are a dark blue, more than a little wisdom conveyed with just a gaze. Lacking a shirt, the definition on his chest and arms is clear as day, and the black pants do little to hide his taut legs. Thicker than Thane, but not by much, and just like I remember.

He chuckles. "And still obsessed with music. I assume it was playing in your ears, or you would have noticed me long before."

I fire off a smirk, wiping sweat from my hands. "It keeps me focused. Otherwise, people from my past will try and distract me."

"Maybe, maybe not. But I still do not understand how you can enjoy that noise."

"You were the only one who ever complained about my music, you know that?"

He offers a hug; I accept with a smile. "It's good to see you, Master. It's been too long."

"Six years, by my count. Though for you, it has been four," he jokes.

I pat his back. "Give or take. I'm glad you ran me so hard as a kid: I still remember almost everything from class."

"Remembering and doing can be two different things, as you used to say. We shall see how much you can still perform."

Garrus, Dinara, Mae, and Nyx round the corner to the strange sight of me hugging the old Drell. "Interrupting something?" Vakarian asks.

I let go and point to the old master. "Garrus, this is Aephus Phura. He was my old martial arts instructor on Mindoir. He taught me from age six to fifteen, all the way up to black belt."

"Pleasure to meet you, then," Garrus says while offering a hand shake.

Aephus accepts it warmly. "It is an honor. Anyone that Aaron speaks of with such respect is a friend. Is it true that you never take off your visor?"

That last bit raises my companion's eyebrow. "Shepard, you've been telling other people about me?"

"Only this one," I chuckle. "He's the only person I know from Mindoir that's not dead and buried. We've emailed each other for years, every week or so. The thought to tell you guys never crossed my mind."

"Ah. If you don't mind me asking, how is it that you're still... alive, Mr. Phura?" the younger Turian asks slowly. "I read the files on Mindoir. Shepard was the only survivor, if you don't count the poor girl still in therapy from being captured."

"It is no trouble. A year before the attack, my wife wanted to move. Her back was damaged from a fall as a child, so cultivating the land around our home wore on her. We came to see if the cities held the beauties vids always portrayed. She loves it here, so here we have stayed," Aephus explains plainly. His voice has always reminded me out some great elder in an old kung-fu movie: always calm and precise, a hint of sophistication without trying to prove that he's better than you. Very Zen-like.

I step up to the plate. "When he found out I enlisted, he got in contact to check up on me. Since then, we've been swapping details about each other's lives almost weekly, though we haven't been face to face for six years, which is something I regret deeply, Kwan Jang Nim."

"I'm going to assume that means 'great martial arts master' or something like that," Garrus chuckles. "Again, honor to meet you, sir. How much has Aaron told you about his life? Stories from missions, the bad jokes we share at dinner, his new Quarian girlfriend?"

Realizing that Vakarian's trying to make me uncomfortable, Aephus laughs. "Many things, though he does not go into detail about the where or what he is fighting. He gave me a general description of what you were to do and what happened, along with a highlight or two. The messages always focused on the friends he was meeting, such as the biotic's tattoos and your love for your visor and calibrations. And yes, he did tell of his new mate, the beautiful Quarian named Tali'Zorah. He gave no details about what she looks like beneath her suit or what the pair do in the evening, before you ask."

Garrus snaps his fingers. "Damn. I was hoping to find out something."

"Hey, if you want to know, you're gonna have to ask her yourself," I smirk.

"So you are here to test your skill again, Aaron?" Aephus asks.

I nod. "Yeah. Tali didn't get off work this morning, so I thought it would be a good way to relax. Afterward, we'll be heading out for lunch. We've already got four people in our group, but you're more than welcome to join us."

He gives a short bow. "I would enjoy that. I will do my best not to interfere with your friends."

"If it's all the same to you guys, I'd like to tag along too," Dinara adds. "I've got the creds to pay and some stories to tell Vakarian."

"Same here, as long as none of you mind," Nyx says.

I chuckle. It's like chasing Saren again: every alien I find wants to join me. "No problem. My crew's paid for, as is Aephus, but the rest of you are on your own for the bill. Garrus knows more about the restaurant than I do."

"I've got the tip," Dinara claims as my omni-tool beeps with a message. While the herd assaults Garrus with questions about what and where we'll be eating, I duck back to read the text.

_Aaron,_

_We're done with the installations and getting ready to leave. Joker's wanting to come with us for lunch, and so is Kasumi, Thane, and Dr. Chakwas. EDI has already gotten a taxi large enough to carry all of us, and Joker is paying for it. Do you want us to go to the gym that you're at, or the restaurant? (EDI told us where you are; I'm not spying on you.) We should be there in about a half hour, regardless of which one we're meeting at. Let me know where, please. ~Tali._

Well, this is working out better than expected. Of course, that makes it... ten people going to eat lunch. The more the merrier.

_Just come over to the gym. Garrus and I will be doing a round of light kickboxing, and I'm sure the rest of the crew would love to see that. When it's all done, I'll shower and we can eat. Then, we'll figure out what we'll do for fun. Maybe we can sneak away for a few hours. :-)_

_Also, fair warning: we've run into a few friends here at the gym. Two of Garrus' old crew are here, as well as an old friend of mine from Mindoir. They're wanting to join us for lunch. I think everyone will get along, but I just wanted to warn you. If you don't want to have that many people around you, we can get a table a few feet away from them. But still, needed to make sure you knew._

_I'll see you when you get here. Please send me a message when you get close or if you have a question/problem with anything. See you soon, my favorite Quarian and amazing girlfriend. ~Aaron._

With that taken care of, I turn back to Garrus' mob. "Hey, nut jobs!" I shout to get their attention.

Everyone silences and turns back to me. Garrus' relief is apparent with the huge sigh. Guess he didn't like being the center of attention. "So are we going to spar today or what?"

I get a murmur of consent as we all move towards the entrance of the ring. Only Garrus fights his way to me. "Never leave me alone in a group like that again unless we're being shot at," he grumbles.

"You were fine. Look on the positive side: you get a free lunch after this. Joker, Kasumi, Chakwas, Tali, and Thane will be leaving the Normandy here in a few, so our small mob will be attacking the restaurant. Sounds like a good day to me."

He shrugs. "That it is. And thanks for covering for me with Dinara. I don't think she'd take kindly to knowing I was telling that story to other people."

"I can be nice when I want to be. Let's get some ass-kicking done. I want to have an appetite worked up when we head out."

* * *

Songs mentioned:

_Dark That Follows _by Evans Blue on _The Melody and the Energetic Nature of Volume _album.

_Beyond the Stars _by Evans Blue from _Graveyard of Empires_ album.(Yes, it is the same band, even if it sounds completely different. They got a new singer and changed a lot of their musical stuff over time.)

_There and Back Again _by Daughtry from his self-titled album.

_Not Strong Enough (Feat. Brent Smith) _by Apocalyptica from _7th Symphony _album. (Yes, it's featuring Brent Smith of Shinedown. That makes it even more awesome.)

_Blow Me Away (Feat. Valora) _by Breaking Benjamin from _Shallow Bay: The Best of Breaking Benjamin_ album.

_Not Without a Fight _by Pillar from _Confessions _album.

_Cry For Help _by Shinedown from _Sound of Madness _album.

Notes:

Yes, Kwan Jang Nim is an actual term used to describe martial arts masters. Not in every form of martial arts, but several.

There's a cookie in it for the minion that can find the Metal Gear Solid reference in this.

And I will try my best to get the next chapter out sooner than this one was. ~MGA


End file.
